


Red Sky at Night

by SkyGiantz



Category: The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, F/M, Family Feels, Finnick Odair is not okay, Forced Prostitution, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, POV Outsider, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Esteem Issues, but he's trying his best
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-25
Updated: 2018-10-05
Packaged: 2019-06-15 23:15:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 30,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15423780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyGiantz/pseuds/SkyGiantz
Summary: As Finnick grows older, the years grow longer. By the time he's twenty, he feels one hundred years old.Or:In which Finnick keeps rolling with the punches even after life continuously deals him hand after shitty hand.





	1. Rising Tide

**Author's Note:**

> Since Finnick was never properly given a backstory, I decided to give him one myself.

When Finnick is barely seven years old, his father takes him aboard their family’s fishing boat for the first time. His older brother Heiilios, who helps reel in the nets on the weekends, teases Finnick for being so excited. “You think if you slipped Dad would reel you in?” Heiilios asks, nudging Finnick in the ribs.

  
“Uh, yeah, stupid. He’s our dad. Why _wouldn’t_ he?”

  
“Yeah, but I’m just saying,” Heiilios shrugs, undeterred. “It would be the perfect excuse to leave you behind. He could just say that the sharks ate you.”

  
“Don’t be stupid, Heii. Nobody would believe that” Finnick says, seemingly unbothered, but takes a step away from the edge of the boat. 

  
“They would,” Heiilios insists. “If I went along with it then everybody would have no choice but to believe us.” Heiilios grins at the way his brother’s head swivels toward him, eyes bright with worry.

  
“No, they wouldn’t.” 

  
Heiilios wraps his hands around Finnick's shoulders and says, “let’s find out,” giving a small shove. Finnick startles, lurching forward, before catching himself on the rail of the boat. He whips around, furious.

  
“Heii!” Finnick shouts at his brother's already retreating form. He turns to the front of the boat and yells for his father instead. “Dad!” Finnick shouts, but his dad must not hear him over the sound of the boat's engine. Alone now, Finnick promptly sits down and watches the shore grow smaller. This is the farthest he’s ever been from land, and Finnick is surprised to find the thought calming.

  
Living in District Four there is always the smell of salt in the air, but miles from the coast the smell is stronger; crisper. The ocean breeze is stronger too, mussing his hair in every direction. The sky above is endlessly blue for miles, and he welcomes the beat of the sun bearing down on his already bronzed skin.

  
He must have fallen asleep because the next thing he knows his father is shaking him awake. “Come on, kiddo,” his father says hoisting him up. “Time to earn your sea legs.” 

  
“Are we allowed to be out here?” Finnick asks. 

  
His father’s smile drops. “Of course not, son,” his father says tapping his breast pocket. “Got my license right here. Nothing to worry about.” 

  
The coast is clear- not another ship for miles- and Finnick wonders why the thought isn't enough to relieve him.

 

"Come on. I need you and your brother to check the nets for holes.”

  
Finnick stumbles after his father toward the read end of the boat where the net is already strewn across the deck. Heiilios is already on his stomach reassuring the knots and pulling them tight when Finnick kneels down beside him. The waves lap rhythmically against the boat, and the sea is silent except for Heii’s soft humming. Finnick recognizes the tune as an old fisherman’s song and joins in. His brother grins and Finnick smiles back.

  
The day is calm and peaceful, and when Finnick is older and wishes for things to be simple again, he’ll savor this memory like a cool treat on a hot summer’s day.

 

* * *

 

When Finnick turns nine his father teaches him how to gut a fish. To show him, his father hands Finnick a short-bladed knife about three inches in length and call him over to the kitchen sink. From the room next over, Finnick hears his mother sigh

  
“Really, you couldn’t have shown him on the docs or something?” she complains. “You’re going to get blood all over the place.”

  
“He’s gotta learn eventually,” his father replies. “Here,” he says holding out a pair of latex gloves. “You’ll want to wear these or the blood will stain your hands.” Finnick quickly slips on his gloves and watches his father do the same.

  
“Take your pick, son.” His father gestures to the small net of fish splayed across the counter while grabbing one for himself. Finnick notices that some of the fish are still flopping around, clinging desperately to life. He grabs the fish closest to him. 

  
Finnick has seen his father and Heiilios gut fish before, so he’s not surprised when his father sticks the tip of the blade into the rear of the fish and slices upward splitting the fish in half. However, he is surprised by the stream of red that oozes down his father’s gloves and pooling in the sink. Finnick distantly knows that when they’re finished, he'll have to clean up the blood, but at the moment all he can focus on is the stream of bright red cascading down his father’s hands. 

  
“So, after you cut open the fish, you need to take out the gills.” His father gauges his thumb into the side of the fish slightly below the head. “And then you have to get your fingers all the way back here to be able to scoop out all the guts.” Finnick silently watches as his father hooks his fingers into the fish before pulling out all the guts and intestines. The fish guts make a wet splat as they hit the bottom of the sink, and Finnick flinches back to avoid having guts splatter on him.

  
“Then rinse the fish off to clean it out,” his father says setting down his blood-stained knife. Out of the corner of his eye, Finnick can see his mother frowning, disapprovingly. “We’ll do that part together.” 

  
Finnick is no stranger on how to use a knife. He has seen his father gut fish for as long as he can remember. But now, somehow, the touch of the blade feels foreign in his hand. The fish is slimy and he has to readjust his grip to keep from cutting himself. Distantly, Finnick can feel his father watching him; waiting.

  
Finnick is from District Four. He is expected to be able to do something as simple as gut and clean a fish. He stares at the scaly creature, blankly. The eyes of the fish are unmoving; dead. He can do this. He has to do this. Finnick stabs the blade into the rear of the fish. Blood trickles from the puncture wound, and out of the corner of his eye he can see his father nod approvingly. Determined, he tightens his grip on the blade and rips.

 

* * *

Finnick is eight when Heiilios attends his first Reaping Ceremony. His brother says he’s not afraid of being Reaped, but Finnick hears him try to stifle his sobs at night and knows that’s not true. The two of them share a room, and Finnick considers saying something reassuring to his brother, but ultimately considers otherwise when he can only picture Heiilios punching him in the stomach for his efforts. Tonight though, his brother is silent.

  
Finnick sits up and looks across the room to see his brother staring at the ceiling, fists clenching the blanket at his side. “Heii?” Finnick asks.

  
His brother doesn't answer him. He doesn't even look over, too focused on burning holes in the ceiling with his eyes.

 

The scene strikes Finnick as wrong, even if he doesn't completely understand why. 

  
  
He considers what he can do. Heiilios would undoubtedly hate his pity, and it's not like Finnick has any advice.

 

Still.

 

“If you end up being reaped, can I have your fishing gear?”

   
As soon as the words leave his mouth Heiilios sits up and gives Finnick a long stare that goes right through him. “What the absolute fuck is wrong with you?” he finally asks.

  
Something Finnick knows that his parents do not is that Heiilios swears. A lot. But, never in front of their parents. Finnick thinks it’s hilarious considering the effort his parents, in particular, his father, makes not to curse around them. He suspects his brother isn’t looking for an answer, so Finnick just shrugs. 

  
“I’d give you mine,” Finnick says in lieu of a response. In reality, he could care less about his brother’s fishing gear. His brothers fishing rod is nearly identical to his own. Finnick just wanted to see some other look on his brother’s face. 

  
He wanted a reaction.

  
Heiilios stares at Finnick again, and the whites of his brother's eyes glow in the backdrop of the moon. Heiilios doesn’t say anything, so Finnick figures he’s just been ignored. Heiilios lies down again, and Finnick copies his brother. 

  
There’s a nervous energy in the room that makes the air thick to breathe. Finnick finds his way over to the window, staring outside for a moment before pitching it open. “There,” he says after a slight ocean breeze rolls in. “It was too stuffy in here.” 

  
District Four is somewhat of a career district. There are still training schools in other parts of the District, and once in a while, their District has a volunteer. Finnick knows, intellectually, that District Four is not the worst place to live. Tributes from their District are better prepared than most other tributes, except maybe District One and Two. His brother can weave nets, catch bait, lay traps, and can swim better than just about anyone else. Heiilios can also spearfish, a skill which Finnick has been begging his father to teach him. His brother is far more prepared at 12 years old than Finnick thinks he’ll ever be, but hearing his brother’s shuttering breaths, Finnick isn’t the one that needs reassurance.

  
Instead, he walks across the room to his brother's bed and shoves Heiilios' legs out of the way so that he can sit down. "Wha-" Heiilios starts, but Finnick ignores him. The bed groans loudly under his weight. Heiilios sits up a moment later, staring at Finnick. "What?" his brother snaps, but Finnick ignores the venom in his brother’s voice.

  
"You afraid?" Finnick asks. For the past week, Heiilios sounded like a broken record repeating the same, _'I'm not scared'_ too often to be believed. His brother doesn't answer, so he adds, "It's okay if you are." And really, it is. Finnick thinks that if there's anything left to be afraid about, then it's this. Their family doesn't talk about the Reaping. Their family doesn't talk about the Games either, and Finnick thinks that maybe they should if only to alleviate some of the tension that builds whenever they interact. The suffocating feeling spikes and wanes, but never really goes away. He notices the way his parents look at his brother with pitying eyes like Heiilios is some animal up for slaughter, and Finnick thinks that if he were his brother, he wouldn't want to talk to anyone either.

  
Heiilios stares at him for a long moment leaving Finnick scared that he said the wrong thing. The Capitol forbade the Districts from speaking poorly of the Games. Only two years ago, Finnick was forced to watch along with everyone else in their District, what happened to those who spoke poorly of the Games. He hates to think about the way the man was pinned down, flailing under the weight of several Peacekeepers after protesting the Games. He shudders at the memory.

  
Heiilios slowly turns away from Finnick and whispers, "I don't want to die, Finn" in wet, shaky breaths. Finnick watches the way his brother crumples after admitting the truth; glassy eyes finally spilling over like a ruptured dam. Heiilios' breathing grows staggered and uneven, and Finnick is suddenly worried about how he would explain why his brother started hyperventilating and passed out. His brother scrubs at his eyes and chants the same, _"I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die, please, I don't want to die,"_ like the words themselves will keep reality at bay.

  
Finnick wants to say something to comfort his brother, but his throat constricts painfully, and no sound comes out.

  
He already said something. This is his fault.

  
Instead, he just watches helplessly as his brother breaks down in front of him. 

  
"Please, Finn," his brother pleads. "I-I don't want to go. I don't want to die." Finnick watches his brother scan the room like a wild animal, and watches the door uncertainly. Their parents are in the next room over and Finnick has a sudden fear that his parents will burst into the room and start yelling.

  
Telling Heiilios easy reassurances like, _'you'll be fine'_ or _'it's okay'_ are meaningless and couldn't be further from the truth. Finnick understands that in a way, even if you win the Games and return home, no one is ever really "okay". Instead, he grabs his brother's arm and pulls him so that his brother's red-rimmed eyes meet his own.

  
"Heii, if... if you know," Finnick stutters out. He shouldn't be the one having this conversation. This is a conversation meant for his parents. Except, his mom and dad are a couple of rabbits, and if they won't reassure Heiilios then Finnick _has_ too. 

  
"If your name is called-" his brother flinches, "-you have to come back. I don't care what you have to do, but you have to come home.” 

  
“Okay, Heii?" Finnick squeezes his brother's shoulder tightly, and Heiilios looks at his hand like he's not sure if Finnick is real. 

  
"Okay? Listen, Heii. No matter what- no matter anything that happens in there- you need to win. You need to come back... _please_."

 

Finnick wants to crawl under his covers and never come out. He hates the way Heiilios stares at him- with a lost, sorry look in his eye. But then, his brother blinks a few times and nods. He’s finally stopped crying even if his eyes are red and blotchy and his breathing has yet to even out.

  
"Okay."

Heiilios doesn't smile and neither does Finnick. Instead, his brother nods slightly. He debates staying with his brother until the hiccups subside, but Heiilios is still staring at Finnick like he's waiting for something more.

  
He has nothing.

  
So, he stands up and slides back into bed, leaving the window open as he does. From his side of the room, Finnick watches his brother lie back down, not entirely relaxed, but as if he’s too exhausted to feel much of anything.

  
"Goodnight, Heii," he says quietly, rolling over to face the wall and give his brother some privacy. Finnick belatedly wonders why he bothers to try and help when it’s obvious all he’s good for is making bad situations, worse.

  
Sleep never comes.

 

* * *

The tributes chosen are a boy named Fabel and a girl named Laiken. The boy is fourteen, and the girl, sixteen. Finnick feels guilty, yet relieved that his brother wasn't among the name’s called this year, but he can tell he isn't the only one the way most of the other children in the audience sag in relief. Finnick watches the large projector from the city center alongside his parents and pretends not to notice his mom wipe at her eyes.

 

The focus of the camera is now exclusively on the tributes. Even with the screen’s fuzzy image, Finnick can see the boy, Fabel, bite his lip and squeeze his eyes shut.

Finnick imagines himself on stage; the camera recording his every move. His chest grows tight at the thought. The announcer, a woman with thick makeup and long orange hair, asks the female tribute if she has anything she'd like to say. The woman smiles encouragingly, without a hint of empathy for either of the tributes and pushes the microphone forward. Laiken, this year's tribute, stands directly upright. She looks tense and uncomfortable, but unlike the boy to her left, she does not cry.

  
"No," Laiken says. She doesn’t even spare the announcer a glance. Her gaze remains strong, unwavering, locked onto the crowd. Finnick wonder's if she’s staring at someone in particular, or just refusing to give the Capitol a reaction. The announcer, seemingly unsure of how to respond, nods her head before finishing up the Reaping ceremony. The contestants are then ushered off stage to supposedly meet with their families one final time before their trek to the Capitol where they will have a week of fancy meals and survival training. Finnick notices that the camera only follows Laiken walking off the stage. The entire ordeal lasts no more than 10 minutes.

  
Heiilios comes home shortly after the ceremony concludes, shirt untucked and collar unbuttoned, and their mother hugs his brother until Heiilios mumbles something about his arms going numb. After that, the tension that clouded the air for weeks has finally lessened enough that Finnick feels like he can breathe again.

  
They eat dinner together the following night, only the sound of their defunct radio in the background keeping them from silence. The radio commentators talk about the prospective tributes. Laiken’s name comes up several times. Apparently, her aloofness during the Reaping ceremony has garnered attention. The commentators mention some of her strengths like swimming and fishing- traits not uncommon to those from District Four. They also mention her unconventional beauty. The precise word used to describe Laiken was “exotic”. Her skin is darker than Finnick’s, not bronzed by the sun like his, but naturally darker in color. In her opening ceremony recap, she has sharp, dark eyes and short hair pulled back into a ponytail. Finnick fails to see how her appearance would help her win the Games, or even for that matter, why anyone should care. On another station, some talk show host mentions that she is definitely someone “to watch for”, but the way the other host laughs, makes Finnick think he missed the punchline to a joke he doesn’t understand.

  
Not once, on any of the radio stations recapping the events, does anyone mention Fabel.

  
Heiilios slowly returns to his old self again. Finnick is understandably both relieved and annoyed. 

  
As the week carries on, Finnick hears more hushed whispers of the District Four tributes. To no one’s surprise, Laiken is everyone’s hope to come home this year. She has proven herself as strong with a score of 8. Plus, the Capitol seems to like her. During all her interviews, Laiken refuses to talk about anything that could be considered meaningful. Any questions about family, friends or lovers are completely shut down. Instead, Caesar Flickerman is forced to talk about her skills and dress designers and other trivial things. Finnick thinks Laiken’s just being stubborn; refusing to give the Capitol the satisfaction they crave. Normally, this sort of cryptic behavior would have the Capitol citizens dismissing her the moment she refused to be entertaining. But, incredibly enough, her cock-eyed, piss-off attitude is drawing an unprecedented following. Finnick likes her immediately.

  
Fabel, on the other hand, hardly receives any recognition. Even within their own District, he is referred to as, “the boy”. Once Fabel’s name was drawn, it seemed as if his identity ceased to exist.

  
“Why doesn’t anybody ever mention Fabel?” Finnick asks his brother on the eve of the Games. "They don't even say his name."

  
“Because he's as good as dead.”

  
Finnick opens his mouth, closes it, then opens it again completely at a loss for what to say.

 

“But he’s not dead yet!"

  
“He’s not gonna make it. You saw his score. He had a four.” Finnick can only stare at his brother, mouth opening and closing, gaping like a fish. "Fabel is 14, Finn. No one wins the games when they're that young. It just doesn't happen. Plus, he's kind of small, too. He drew the short straw, and I mean, that sucks, but at least Laiken has a chance at winning. It’s hard to root for people you know are going to die."

  
Finnick stares at his brother and sees a stranger. His hands are shaking and he would punch his brother if he thought that would do any good.

"What are you saying?" he screams instead. "Fabel's bigger than _you."_

  
"Yeah. And I would have died too! If my name were chosen instead of his, everyone would still be talking about Laiken, and no one would even mention my name. Why are you so surprised? This is how it's always been."

  
"No," Finnick scrambles to think back to last year. The boy's name was Rhion, but the girl- what was her name? "That's not true," he refuses stubbornly. "That's not," Finnick squeezes his eyes shut. What was her name? Why can't he remember? He hears footsteps and feels his brother's hand on his shoulder.

  
Finnick blinks his eyes open, surprised to find them wet. He slaps his brother's hand away not in the mood to be either pitied or comforted. "Fabel's not dead yet," he says, before running out the front door.

  
His feet carry him all the way to the ocean and he dives in without a second thought. Finnick knows he won’t have longer than a few hours by himself before curfew. In the back of his mind, he hopes Heiilios won’t tell their parents about Finnick’s tantrum. Because that’s what it was. A tantrum. He feels so stupid getting all worked up. Finnick doesn’t even understand why he got so worked up now of all times.

  
He treads water for a while before he finally remembers. The female tribute last year was named Lace. She was 15 and died when another tribute found her sleeping on the second night and ran a knife along her throat. Finnick dives underwater and lets the saltwater burn his eyes.

  
The Games begin the next morning and Finnick watches in horror as Fabel is hit with a dagger in the back within minutes. The way he fell, arms wind-milling before dramatically sprawling on his stomach, would be comical in any other situation. A moment later, the boy from District Eight who threw the dagger finishes him off with a quick slice to the throat. Finnick recognizes it as an act of mercy. Fabel would have died anyway, but the boy from District Eight was just helping him along. Fabel dies within minutes and Laiken manages to get away.

  
Finnick heads into town later and hears everyone whispering about what happened. There’s a sad note in their voices, but not even Finnick can fool himself into thinking that anyone was surprised.

 

* * *

Finnick, now eleven-years-old, is constantly angry. Heiilios, who is now fourteen, brushes his anger aside and calls him “an over-dramatic drama queen” when Finnick refuses to give him a bite of his sandwich. He punches his brother in the stomach, hard, and is subsequently tackled to the ground for his efforts. Finnick struggles, but Heiilios who is half a foot taller and at least 30 pounds heavier makes quick work of him, pinning his arms back in seconds.

  
“What the fuck was that for, dumbass?” His brother yells, close enough that Finnick can feel his brother's hot breath on his face.

  
Finnick continues to writhe while screaming, “Get the hell off me, dickwad!”. Heiilios socks him in the nose then, and Finnick lets out a shout. He feels his brother ease up slightly and uses the opportunity to squeeze out of his hold. Amazingly, he manages to get to his knees before Heiilios tackles him again, but it doesn’t matter because a second later, and they’re rolling around the floor anyway. Finnick is flat on his back and is certain that he’s about to lose this fight and possibly end up with a bloody nose, but before that can happen, Heiilios slams into the end of the table.

  
“Ow! What the-” but before his brother can finish, Finnick climbs on top of him and starts punching his brother in the head. His brother doesn't even see it coming when Finnick punches him in the eye.

“You fucking little shit!” his brother howls. Heiilios bucks Finnick with his hips, and suddenly they’re rolling again, this time the other way, and before Finnick can even tell what’s happening, his brother’s hands are wrapped around his throat, squeezing.

  
This is the scene their father walks into, dark circles under his eyes and smelling like fish. Heiilios sees their father, and let’s go of Finnick immediately. Finnick grasps at his throat, coughing. There are stars in his eyes and for a moment he thinks he’s about to pass out, but then his father is grabbing his arm and hoisting him up. Stumbling for a moment, he eventually finds his balance and is met with his father’s angry red face looking down at him.

  
“What’s going on?” his father asks. Finnick opens his mouth to respond but starts coughing instead.

  
“I don’t know,” Heiilios says, sounding exasperated. “He just punched me out of nowhere.”

 

Heiilios’ left eye is red and irritated, and Finnick feels strangely proud. 

  
“So, you decide to choke him?” his father's eyebrows shoot up. Heiilios looks slightly abashed now and just shrugs. His father then whirls around to face him, and Finnick has never been afraid of his father before, but right now his father looks positively dangerous. “What did you do?” Finnick has never heard so much malice in his father’s voice before and feels his aching throat constrict in fear.

  
“I didn’t-" he begins, “I don’t-” Finnick’s eyes begin watering again and he wipes at them furiously.

  
“Apologize, now. Both of you.”

  
“M’sorry,” Heiilios grounds out. If their father weren’t watching them, Finnick would sneer at his brother’s shitty excuse for an apology. He would probably even try to deck him again because the anger that’s been festering inside makes him want to lash out. To hurt like he hurts.

  
Instead, he turns to face Heiilios and says, “I’m sorry,” even if he has never felt less sorry in his life. Finnick’s eyes are still watery, and he’s not crying, dammit! But, his brother is smirking at him now and Finnick knows that he looks like he’s crying.

  
“Okay,” his father frowns at their obvious insincerity. “You’re both grounded for the next week."

  
Finnick would grin at his brother’s open-mouthed, incredulous expression if he weren’t making one himself.

 

  
"Get out of my sight," their father turns, addressing Heiilios. "I'll figure out what to do with you later.”

 

The way their father speaks, forcibly calm but equally dangerous, makes Finnick think Heiilios' punishment is less, _get out of jail free_ , and more, _I'm too angry to even think properly_. 

 

“Now what do I do with you?”

His father looks at him, disappointed, and for a moment Finnick actually does feel bad about hitting his brother. “This isn’t like you. Is there anything you want to tell me?”

  
Finnick hesitates for a moment and considers telling his father why he’s been so angry lately. His father looks at him expectantly, as if Finnick could just admit to his greatest insecurities and fears, and then poof, everything’s suddenly fixed. Why admit to a problem if there’s no solution to fix it?

  
“No, sir,” he says, instead. “I don’t know why I did it.” And just like that, the opportunity has passed. Finnick feels exhausted now, his throat burning, and nose throbbing. 

  
“Alright. You have two weeks of dock duty. Understand?” 

  
“Okay,” Finnick mumbles eventually. He _hates_ the docks, where it always smells like sewage and rotting fish, but he doesn't have the energy to do anything but agree.

  
“Unless, you have something you want to tell me, of course. I’m a very reasonable man after all."

 

Finnick appreciates his father’s attempt to help, but his problems are bigger than anything his family could fix.

  
“Finnick?” 

  
“Yes, sir,” he says miserably. “I understand.”

  
“Okay,” his father sighs, and Finnick would have to be deaf not to hear the obvious disappointment in his father’s voice. “You can go now."

 

Without sparing his father another glance, Finnick turns to walk out the front door. He almost makes it too, but his father stops him.

  
“Oh, and son,” his father says. He sounds saddened. Finnick stops but doesn’t turn.

  
“I expect better of you.”

 

* * *

The docs are slimy and gross, and Finnick hates being anywhere near them. But, for the past week, he’s spent every waking hour, from dawn ‘til dusk with the hot sun on his back and the smell of rot in his nose. He makes sure to wear thick rubber gloves that extend all the way to his elbow when he skins and guts the pile of fish taller than he is, but his hands are still stained pink by the end of the day.

  
He’s only seen his brother at night.  And, while his brother hasn’t said anything about still being mad at Finnick, that doesn’t mean Heiilios is at the “forgive and forget” stage yet, either. Then again, maybe he is. Finnick can never really tell with his brother.

  
The two of them are wildly different that way. When he’s angry, Finnick acts impulsively, usually hurting both himself and others in the process. Hence the whole, “starting a fight and dragging his brother down with him” spectacle. Misery likes company, and all that nonsense.

  
Heiilios, on the other hand, is the type to form grudges. His brother may not say anything is wrong; may not even act like it either, but as soon as you let your guard down is when he’ll strike. Finnick knows from experience.

  
So, while Finnick is no longer angry at his brother (if he’s being honest, he was never mad at his brother, to begin with) he is still angry and wants to lash out.  
Finnick finally falls asleep, weary and beat, with plans of sleeping away his morning and afternoon. He expects his brother to sleep in too, and when they wake up, his mother will roll her eyes at them and make some quip about teenagers being so lazy. What Finnick does not expect, however, is his father bursting in his room at the crack of dawn, banging his hands on the wall in some obnoxious parody of a drum roll, before cupping them around his mouth and yelling, “wake up, boys” in the most cheerful voice he can manage. Finnick hears Heiilios grunt across the room and roll back over while shoving his pillow over his ears.

  
“What?” Heiilios demands, none too kindly. “It’s over, right? We can sleep in today.” Finnick is already sitting up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes knowing that Heiilios is only fighting a losing battle.

  
“Yeah, and I figured you boys could help me on the boat today since I gave everyone else the day off.” Even in the darkness, Finnick can see his father grinning in obvious amusement.

  
“Ugh,” Heiilios grunts, throwing his blanket on the ground. Their father, giant smile plastered on his face, turns and leaves. Heiilios glares murderously as he goes, and Finnick can’t help but agree.

  
Half an hour later, and their boat is being weighed and inspected by the Peacekeepers stationed at the port. Another half an hour, and they are far enough away to barely see the shore.

  
Around him, Finnick can feel the boat begin to sputter and knows they’re about to stop. Heiilios who was passed out on the deck is jolted awake by the boat’s choppy movement. When the floorboards stop shaking. Finnick looks over the rail and notes that the sea looks calm this morning. A good sign. Their father will be pleased.  
A moment later and the three of them are gathered by the rear of the boat, their father dramatically stretching his back before exclaiming, “Alright boys, you better get started.” Heiilios mutters something under his breath, and Finnick just sighs. He loves his dad, he really does, but in some ways, the man is just completely insufferable.

  
They begin working with only the faintest glimmer of light and continue until the sun is directly overhead. Finnick stripped his shirt hours ago, but now he has to wipe the sweat from his forehead onto his arm, which is about as helpful as a wet towel. An hour later their father suggests a break, and before he can even finish speaking Finnick drops the piece of net in his hands and hurls himself on the deck.

  
“Finally!” Finnick pants, relieved. “I thought you were trying to kill us,” he whines. Out of the corner of his eye, Finnick can see his father frown.  
“Don’t act so weak.” His brother states, derisively. “It’s not a good look on you,” he remarks casually, shaking his head. Finnick can feel himself still.  
“Yeah?” Finnick continues, making sure to keep his expression light, seemingly unbothered, “because you don’t look so great yourself.” Heiilios is sweating as much as Finnick and even though his brother tries not to show weakness, Heiilios is obviously tired too. “Besides,” Finnick continues, just as casual, “any look on me is still better than you.”

  
As soon as the words leave his mouth Finnick regrets them. He kicks himself mentally. Heiilios’ eyes narrow and Finnick can already tell that the next words to leave his brothers mouth will be scathing. “At least I’m more than a nice face, pretty boy,” Heiilios seethes. Then, as if realizing what he just said, Heiilios’ narrowed eyes widen. “Wait, no, I didn’t mean that, Finn,” Heiilios says, pleadingly.

  
But, it’s too late, because Finnick is left reeling back. He can feel his breath hitch slightly and wonders if his face mirrors how he feels; utterly, horribly exposed.  
Finnick, flat-footed and unsure what to say, gives pause long enough for their father to intervene. “Enough! Both of you!” Their father yells, not unlike how he did last week. Finnick feels himself flinch back. “What has gotten into you two?” There is heat behind his words, but the question is genuine.

  
Finnick is silent while Heiilios is left sputtering for an excuse. Ultimately, they are forced to listen to their father ream them out, again. His father’s words sound like background static compared to Finnick’s own raging thoughts. Had Heiilios known the depth of what he said? Or was it just a wild shot in the dark? His brother can be more intuitive than he lets on, so Finnick is forced to believe the latter.

  
And still, with one swift motion, Heiilios cut through his carefully crafted borders like they were made of sand.

  
“Finnick?” his father prompts, forcing Finnick back to reality. He looks at his father’s expecting eyes and can only assume he’s waiting for Finnick to apologize to his brother.

  
“I’m sorry,” Finnick murmurs, voice listless. Heiilios stares at him with wide eyes, and Finnick jumps when his father unexpectedly puts a hand on his shoulder.

  
“Alright son, but I asked you if everything was okay. Does what Heiilios said have something to do with whatever’s been bothering you lately?” His father sounds concerned now, a stark difference from how he sounded a few minutes earlier.

  
Just how transparent had he been if both his brother and his father knew something was wrong? Did his mother suspect too? His neighbors? The entire town? Finnick can feel his heart race at the thought.

  
Yes, Finnick thinks. His recent frustration has everything to do with what Heiilios insinuated, but he could never tell his father that. “No,” Finnick says, instead. “Nothings been bothering me. I’m fine.” Heiilios and even his father stare at him disbelievingly, and Finnick almost expects his brother to call him out on his obvious lie. “Really,” Finnick adds, adding more inflection into his voice. He stands up and walks back toward the net his father had cast before he suggested a break. “Can we just get back to work? I feel fine now.”

  
“It’s been five minutes, Finn.” His brother adds, uncertainly. “I’m still tired, why don’t you sit back down for a bit longer.” Just a moment ago Heiilios made fun of him for being tired, and now, dare he believe it, Heiilios sounds concerned. Finnick wonders what his father and brother must see that they are treating him so carefully. He’s sweating, sure, but so is Heiilios. Finnick ignores his brother’s words and keeps working. The net is heavy and Finnick feels his muscles straining to reel it in by himself. He feels two sets of eyes on him and the feeling would make him more uncomfortable if he weren’t so used to it.

  
“Finnick?” He hears his father call, worriedly.

  
“I’m fine!” Finnick yells back, pulling harder on the net. Finnick, facing away from his father and brother miss the look they share.

  
“Why don’t we talk, son?” His father suggests, gently. Finnick, arms shaking with exertion, drops the net letting it fall back into the water.

  
“Talk?” Finnick shouts, whirling on his father. “You want to talk? About what? Certainly not the fucking Games because we never talk about them!” Finnick hates the way his voice is quivering. He’s angry; angrier than he’s ever felt before, and Finnick can feel tears prick at the corners of his eyes. “You never say anything about the Games. Why? What are you not telling me?” Finnick’s tone is as biting as his words. “Wha—”

  
But before Finnick finishes his thought, his father takes two large strides and cups a hand over Finnick’s mouth. “Shut your mouth,” his father hisses into his ear. “They can hear us.”

  
Finnick wants to ask who ‘they’ are, but his father must be able to sense his next question and whispers “not now” before lifting his hand from Finnick’s mouth. Their father looks panicked now, eyes darting from him, to the direction of the shore, then back again, and Finnick is getting whiplash from the all the abrupt mood swings.  
“Heiilios,” his father says, waving to his brother. “Come and help me reel this in. There’s nothing here for us.” Heiilios runs over to their father leaving Finnick gaping like one of the fish they caught. “You too, Finnick,” his father adds when Finnick makes no move to help. Together, they silently work at pulling in the net, host to dozens of fish- their best catch of the day. Finnick suddenly doesn’t feel as bad about not being able to reel the net in by himself.

  
After they finish reeling in the net, their father turns and heads toward the bridge. “You boys look tired,” he says without sparing either of them a glance. “Let’s call it a day.” Finnick isn’t sure of the exact time, but he doubts it’s past noon.

  
A minute later and he’s left standing on the deck alone with his brother and dozens of flopping fish. He waits for Heiilios to make a quip about how he ruins everything, but the teasing never comes. Finnick dares to look at his brother and can clearly see a worried expression on his face. Finnick, unable to stand people’s pity turns and walks away.

  
Later, before their mother returns home from work, Finnick’s father asks him to go swimming. The request is so spontaneous that Finnick can only nod. “Good,” his father says. “Right now, if that’s okay?”

  
“Sure,” Finnick says wearily. Ever since they got home Heiilios has been silent and his father has been alternating between watching Finnick and looking out the window. Finnick has no idea what’s happening anymore, but for once doesn’t feel inclined to ask. He’s just surprised he’s not in trouble for earlier with the way he acted.

  
They make their way to the ocean and his father must see the question on his face because he waves him over. “Come on,” his father calls, beckoning Finnick toward the ocean. “You’re not in trouble anymore. It’s fine.” Finnick hasn’t been in the water in over a week- a punishment that was all but torture to him. But now, standing before the ocean waves, he’s suddenly nervous.

  
“Really?” Finnick asks, nervously. He relishes the feeling of the cool water lapping at his toes.

  
“Yes, son,” his father sighs. Finnick notices how tired his father sounds and feels bad knowing that he’s the reason his father sounds so defeated.  
Finnick waits no longer and dives into the water’s cooling embrace. He savors the moment underwater for as long as his lungs will let him, and when he resurfaces, he realizes he’s smiling for the first time all week. A couple strokes later and he catches up with his father. They’re about 40 meters out, the farthest Finnick has been, before his father stops.

  
Being out so far, the water is difficult to tread. Small waves push them toward the shore and Finnick is thankful the ocean is so calm today otherwise they would have been pushed back by the waves long ago.

  
Ahead, his father stops swimming. “This is good,” he exclaims. “We have to talk out here so that we’re not overheard.”  
“Overheard?” Finnick questions. “But who would hear us at our house? It’s only us,” Finnick states. Besides, what did his father have to suddenly tell him that they needed to swim so far from shore just to not be overheard?

  
“The Capitol can hear us,” his father answers, bluntly. “Do you remember Adius Grey, the man killed a few years back?” Finnick’s mind is reeling. The Capitol listens to them in their house? But how? How much have they heard? Suddenly, Finnick is trying to recall everything incriminating he’s said Fortunately, he can’t think of much because their family never talks about anything important; most notably the Hunger Games. It hits him suddenly. This why they never talk about the Games? Because the Capitol is somehow listening to them?

  
Suddenly, all the mismatched pieces are starting to fit together, and Finnick is not liking the picture.

  
“Yeah,” he says, confusion apparent. “He was the guy who tried protesting the Games and was—”

  
“—was beaten to death. Yeah. Apparently, the Capitol overheard him telling his wife his plan to burn down one of the factories that same night.” His father finishes.  
“But, how do you know that?” Finnick asks, confused. He’s never heard this side of the story.

  
“The Capitol overheard him discussing the plan with his wife the night of the tribute interviews. Apparently, he was going to burn the factory down the exact moment the Games began.” His father smirks at this, and Finnick can only imagine how that would have turned-out. There would have been chaos- that much is guaranteed. But the fallout? Finnick hasn’t a clue what to think. But, he has to admit; the idea is enticing. Burning down one of their factories would have been the biggest ‘fuck you’ to the Capitol in probably forever.

  
“So, the Capitol gave him a choice. Either Adius could be publicly made an example of, or the Capitol would kill his wife and son.”

  
“So, you mean that the yelling and protesting was staged? But I thought…” Finnick trails off. He was so young when Adius was killed that the details are blurry. He remembers he was in town the day it happened. Adius was screaming obscenities at the Capitol before a group of Peacekeepers started hitting him with their batons. “It was because his daughter was a tribute that year? Right?” Finnick asks, remembering the shy 13-year-old girl.

  
“She was,” his father confirms. “But I knew Adius personally, he was a smart man, and likely would have been successful if it wasn’t for—”

  
“The Capitol.” Finnick finishes. His father nods, confirming his suspicions. “He seemed really angry back then,” Finnick remarks.

  
Finnick’s dad lets out a long sigh, rubbing his eyes. “You shouldn’t have been there that day, Finnick. I wish you never had to see that happen.”

  
“It’s not your fault,” Finnick reassures his father immediately. “You didn’t know.” But the words don’t feel entirely right. His father stares at him expectantly.  
“You did know.” Finnick states. He has always been talented at hearing what people don’t say, a skill his mother once told him would keep him alive. “Like you knew about Adius’s plan too,” Finnick says.

  
“I did.” His father confirms, nodding his head. His father is an intense man and having his full attention forces Finnick to look away. Or maybe he just hates being stared at. The sun is setting, and despite the warm days, the water is still cold. Finnick shivers slightly.

  
“How?” He asks. “How did you know?” The image of Adius’s bloody body lying listless on the ground as Peacekeepers kicked in his ribs and stomped on his head, loops like a broken tape inside his mind. Adius was long dead, but they kept beating him until his body was completely disformed. His wife was watching, crying, restrained by several of the townspeople from interfering. He had nightmares every night for nearly a week, afterwards.

  
“Adius helped out from time to time,” His father answers. Finnick knows his father’s usual crew but can’t remember a time when Adius was a part of them. The sun covers his father’s face in shadows and Finnick instinctively knows his father is lying about something.

  
“Does Heii know?” Finnick asks instead.

  
“Yes,” His father says, plainly. “I told him after it happened.”

  
“But not me?” Finnick states. He forces himself to sound unconcerned to mask the bitterness he actually feels.

  
“You were too young. Still are.”

  
“I wasn’t too young to watch.” Finnick’s mind is putting together the words his father has yet to say. He knew what was going to happen, yet still brought Heiilios and him into the city that day.

  
“And I regret that. I wish you and your brother never had to see that. I’m sorry, Finnick.” His father looks so earnest telling him this and Finnick wants to believe him.

  
“So, the Capitol can hear us?” He tries, instead. Finnick doesn’t want to believe his father would lie to him, even now, so he keeps forces himself to move on and painfully changes the subject. “How?”

  
“I don’t know,” His father shakes his head. “But they can; in our house, on the boat, everywhere. We can never talk about the Games because it’s too dangerous.” There is so much emotion in his father’s voice that Finnick is inclined to believe this part as true. “I didn’t want to scare you, so I never told you. Your mother and I never intended to make you feel as if we were hiding things from you.”

  
“But you did,” Finnick states, plainly. He’s spent years wondering why no one would ever mention the Games. Years left alone with his own thoughts, circling and running through his mind at night- trying to make excuses for everyone, because surely, his parents wouldn’t neglect to explain to Finnick why they lived as they did, why every year they are forced to send innocent kids off to die.

  
“Were you ever going to tell me?” Finnick asks.

  
“Eventually.” The sky is completely dark now, but his father still looks at him intensely. Finnick doesn’t know what to say to any of this. He believes part of what his father said is true, but the pieces don’t add up. There’s still something his father is hiding and Finnick is too nervous to ask. “Let’s go back,” his father proclaims, and Finnick, legs numb with the cold and teeth loudly chattering, gladly obliges.

  
They make their way back home. Dinner is left on the table for them, and Finnick’s mother asks how the water was.

  
“Very refreshing.” His father says. “Wasn’t it, Finnick?” His mother looks at him, and Finnick is reminded that she hid things from him too.

  
“Yeah,” Finnick agrees, listlessly. “It was. I’m not very hungry though. I’m just going to go to bed.”

  
“Are you sure?” Finnick’s mother asks, concerned. And why wouldn’t she be? He refuses her eye contact and nearly sounds robotic with his enthusiasm. Even his emotionally-dead brother could figure out Finnick was off somehow. “I made –”

  
“I’m sure. Goodnight.” He interrupts, still unable to look his mother in the eyes. First his father and now his mother look at him like he’s someone to be pitied. He needs to focus; keep it together. Normally, interrupting is something his mother would ream him out for, but tonight she leaves him be.

  
Heiilios is lounging in his bed, staring at the ceiling when Finnick walks in. “Finnick!” Heiilios exclaims, sitting up. Their room is dark except for the faint glow from outside, and Finnick ignores his brother in favor of stripping out of his damp clothes. Not a moment later and he feels his brother’s eyes on his shirtless body.

  
“What?” Finnick barks. He hasn’t forgotten what Heiilios said earlier, the words still ringing in his head. Right now, all he wants is to be able to sleep, not to deal with whatever bullshit Heiilios is going to spout.

  
“About earlier,” His brother trails off. Finnick turns, clad in only his underwear.

  
“What about it?” He asks, unable to mask the bitterness in his voice. “I already apologized. You want me to do it again? Because that’s not happening.” Finnick starts searching the pile of clothes on the ground for something clean to wear.

  
“What? No, no. I don’t want an apology from you. You didn’t have to—” Heiilios rambles, looking for the right words. “I shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t mean to.” He sounds sincere at least, or so Finnick thinks, but that doesn’t change the fact that Heiilios still meant every word he said earlier. And, maybe now Heiilios really is sorry. Sorry for what he said, or sorry for saying it, Finnick doesn’t know, but either way he still meant what he said. Even if he only meant it for a moment, Finnick could tell that he still meant it.

  
Heiilios can be a sorry as he wants, but nothing changes the fact that Heiilios exposed Finnick to their family; publicly unmasked him along with all his insecurities.  
“It doesn’t matter. Nothing I haven’t heard before.” Finnick dismisses, pulling out a pair of shorts while being careful not the trip as he pulls them on. He glances at his brother and notices Heiilios looks surprised.

  
“What do you mean? Do people call you useless?” Heiilios intones, voice sharp. He sounds angry, but for the life of him Finnick can’t imagine what Heiilios has to be mad about.

  
“No. Well, sometimes. But I could care less about that” Finnick lies, suddenly tired of this conversation. “Do we have to do this right now?” He questions. “I forgive you, alright. It’s fine.” He can’t shake the thought that there could be hidden microphones plastered behind the wall, listening and recording his every word. His skin crawls.

  
“You don’t have to.” Heiilios states. “I wouldn’t forgive me if I were you.”

  
“Well, I’m not you, and it’s fine.” Finnick stresses, willing his brother to drop the topic. “Besides, you’ve said worse before.”

  
“Yeah.” Heiilios concedes, “but that was different.” Finnick forgetting about his search for a shirt, whirls on his brother.

  
“Yeah? Why was that any different.” Finnick knows why this time was different, just as much as Heiilios does, but if his brother won’t take the hint and shut up, then Finnick will at least make him admit the reason out loud.

  
Heiilios shrugs, looking abashed. “Because…”

  
“Because it’s true.” Finnick all but snarls.

  
“No!” Heiilios interjects. “You’re not useless!” His brother jumps up, and Finnick is forced to take a step back.

  
“But I am a ‘pretty face’,” Finnick spits out the word. Heiilios stops his forward decent and looks at Finnick strangely.

  
“Wait, is that what you’re upset about?” Heiilios asks, suddenly confused.

  
“Just forget it.” Finnick turns away from his brother resuming his search for a clean shirt. But Heiilios, persistent as ever, keeps talking.

  
“Finnick,” Heiilios starts, carefully, and Finnick must have some sort of Heiilios centric ESP, because he can tell his brother is about to say something especially stupid. “Do you…not like yourself?” Heiilios sounds awkward asking, and Finnick feels his face turn red in embarrassment.

  
“Shut up!” Finnick snaps, finally finding a somewhat clean shirt and shoving the fabric over his head. They are not about to have this conversation, now or ever, if Finnick can help it.

  
“You don’t, do you?” Heiilios starts, nervously. Finnick refuses to meet his brother’s eyes, scared to admit something he’ll never be able to take back.  
“Of course, I do, idiot. What’s not to like? I’m fucking beautiful, remember?” Finnick’s voice wavers over the word ‘beautiful’ and he mentally kicks himself for acting so transparent again.

  
“I never called you ‘beautiful’,” Heiilios helpfully reminds him, eye’s narrowing. Finnick dutifully searches for a dirty shirt to dry his hair with. Something he normally wouldn’t bother with, but he doesn’t want to have to look at his brother right now.

  
“Pretty. Beautiful. Same difference.” Finnick shrugs. “I like myself just fine, okay? So, stop asking me stupid questions. I’m tired and want to go to bed.” Finnick flings himself in bed and turns so he’s facing the wall. A moment later he feels the end of the bed dip down under the weight of another person.

“What do you want?” Finnick snaps at his brother.

  
“The truth would be nice,” Heiilios says, plainly.

  
“Why?” Finnick asks, refusing to look at his brother.

  
“I don’t know,” Heiilios answers honestly. “I guess you’ve just been acting so strange lately and I want to know why. Will you tell me?”

“I’m fine,” Finnick says.

  
“Uh-huh.”

  
“I am.” Finnick repeats.

  
“Okay.” A moment goes by and Heiilios makes no effort to move. Finnick tries to ignore Heiilios, but after several minutes of nothing happening, Finnick snaps.

  
“What do you want me to say?” Finnick barks, sitting up. Their room is completely dark, but Finnick can see his brother’s piercing eyes watching him. “That I don’t like myself? Is that what you want me to tell you?”

  
“Do you?” Heiilios asks, gently. If Finnick weren’t so worked up, he would notice the rigidness in his brother’s body that shows Heiilios is actually taking him seriously for once.

  
“I don’t know!” Finnick says, exasperated. “Not all the time, I guess. I mean, I’m pretty so I should, right? Beautiful people don’t hate themselves.” Heiilios just stares at him, and Finnick has just about had it with people staring at him for one day. “Will you leave me alone now?” Finnick tries asking again. “Please?”

  
Heiilios must finally realize how uncomfortable Finnick feels because he silently stands up and pads back over to his side of the room. Besides, what could Heiilios possibly say? Finnick has been exposed to his own beauty countless times over the past year and positively hates the attention he receives. He’s barely eleven, and lately he can feel people much older than him stare, eye’s devouring his exposed flesh. Even in a t-shirt and shorts he feels exposed. The boys in his class are jealous and make fun of him whenever he opens his mouth, and the girls only ever giggle around him. With the way his parents refuse to talk about anything meaningful, and Heiilios teasing him over every single thing he says, Finnick feels like he hasn’t had a real conversation in ages.

  
He feels alone.

  
Finnick misses the time when he was noticed for his other talents like tying knots or spearing fish, and not his so called “pretty” face. He knows he has other talents; that he’s not useless, even if everyone only seems to focus on his appearance. Finnick hears Heiilios speak up a moment later from his side of the room.

  
“I’m not sure that I completely understand how you feel,” Heiilios starts, uncertainly. “But, maybe don't worry so much about what other people think. You're my brother, and honestly, I couldn't give two shits if your face looks like some damn pig.” Heiilios finishes. He sounds so sure of himself, that Finnick is caught off guard. Being compared to a pig shouldn’t make him feel better, but for some reason it does. 

  
Really?” Finnick asks nervously, body still facing the wall.

  
“Yeah.” Heiilios responds, without an ounce of hesitance. Heiilios meant what he said earlier, just as much as he means what he said now, and Finnick isn’t sure what to think, exactly.

  
“Okay,” Finnick, whispers. The gut churning feeling from earlier has yet to completely disappear, but it eases slightly.

 

* * *

The night before the Reaping ceremony for the 63rd annual Hunger Games, Heiilios meets Finnick on the beach. They sit together, alone and in silence. Finnick, finally twelve, will be among this year’s candidates. Heiilios, 16 years old, is a practically a veteran by now.

  
Finnick did not ask his brother for his company but doesn’t resent his presence all the same. Out of the corner of his eye, he watches Heiilios bury his feet in the sand and does the same. “You too?”

  
Heiilios, able to understand Finnick better than anyone else at his point, just nods his head. “It’s too suffocating back there. I had to leave.” The ‘back there’ Heiilios is referring to is their house. Their parents, especially their mother, have taken to looking at them like wounded animals.

  
“Yeah." 

  
“Do you hate mom and dad?” 

  
“What?” Finnick asks. “No, of course not. Why would you even think that?”

  
Heiilios shrugs. “I don’t know. You’ve just been acting differently.”

  
“I’m not mad.”

 

He loves his parents too much to resent them completely, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t care. Heiilios, a more honest person than Finnick, believes people at face value. Then again, his brother knew the truth from the very beginning. Finnick, on the other hand, isn’t quite as honest and has trouble believing even the people closest to him.

  
“I just can’t take the way they look at me lately,” he admits. 

  
“Yeah, no kidding.”

 

Their conversation trails off, and Finnick is glad his brother isn’t being as pushy today and demanding answers that Finnick can’t give. They watch the ebb and flow of the waves in silence.

  
After a while, Finnick stands, dusting the sand from his legs, ready to go home when Heiilios says, "lets race". 

  
Heiilios, grinning like a shark, is already halfway up before Finnick realizes what’s happening. “Like hell,” Finnick shouts at his brother pushing him back down and taking off toward the water. He kicks up sand as he runs, and glances back to see his brother hot on his heels.

  
“Too slow," Heiilios yells before passing him. They both dive into the water, and surface for air at the same time. Then, without sparing each other a glance, they begin swimming as fast as they can. Finnick, savoring the burn in his muscles, is already about 30 meters out before he hears his brother’s voice calling him back.

  
“Finn, Stop!”

 

He turns and sees Heiilios several meters back waving his arms. Leisurely, he makes his way closer to shore. He can’t remember the last time he and Heiilios spent any time together other than at home, or the weekends working on their father’s boat. Despite never leaving, Finnick realizes he's missed his brother.

 

"When did you get so slow, Heii?" 

 

Heiilios, panting, rolls his eyes. "Right about when you started getting an ego." 

  
“Smart-ass,” Finnick shouts, grabbing his brother’s shoulders and dunking him below the water. Heiilios takes only a moment to regain his composure before swimming after Finnick.

  
“You little shit!” Heiilios calls after him. Finnick takes off. 

  
“I’d say catch me, but I know you can’t!” Finnick yells back, taunting his brother. That’s a lie of course. He may be faster than Heiilios in the water, but only by just. A minute later, Finnick feels something yank his leg back. He yelps caught off guard, and accidentally takes in a large gulp of water.

  
Finnick, unable to keep from coughing, turns back to see his brother grinning at him. “Don’t get full of yourself,” Heiilios mockingly scolds. “If you want to say things like that, then you actually need to be fast.” Finnick, if he weren’t still choking on water, would surely say something witty. Instead, he coughs into one hand, while simultaneously using the other hand to show Heiilios exactly how he feels.

  
Finnick considers swimming away from his brother again, but Heiilios just laughs, so Finnick considers himself safe for now. “I can’t believe you have everyone fooled with your ‘sweet and innocent’ act,” Heiilios remarks. “I mean if they really knew what the little shit you are...”.

  
“They would still love me.” Finnick bats his eyes at Heiilios to prove his point.

  
“Yeah. You’re probably right.”

  
“So,” Heiilios says after a minute, breaking their comfortable silence. “Tomorrow, huh? You nervous?” Heiilios laughs like something about what he said was funny and asks Finnick with a grin about as authentic as plastic. Finnick is reminded again that while his own name is only in there once this year, Heiilios has his name entered six times. Heiilios even offered to put his name in more times for extra food rations.

  
Finnick watched the whole thing; their mother cried big fat tears, while their father fumed that he “didn’t try to give their children a good life so they could just throw it away”. Their father especially seemed upset, but Finnick thinks that his parents were just scared and would rather starve to death than see either of his kids have to compete in the Games.

  
Unsure what kind of answer his brother’s looking for, Finnick just nods his head. “Yeah, I guess.”

  
“Jeez, Finn,” Heiilios says, sounding exasperated now. “You’re not making this easy on me.”

  
Finnick wants to comment that he’s not forcing his brother to do anything. Having grown up with the Games as a constant presence in his life, Finnick has seen the other side of the story. He already knows what to expect, tomorrow- what happens to the tributes and their families back home. He’s seen Heiilios, trying and failing to desperately mask his terror with every year, yet still, volunteer to provide extra rations for his family. Finnick doesn’t have to mask his fear like Heiilios to know that he, or his brother, or any one of the kids in his class may not be here by next years’ time. By now, Finnick’s fear is just a part of who he is. He certainly doesn’t need it explained to him.

  
“You don’t have to do this, you know? I know what happens by now, so you don’t need to talk to me, or reassure me, or anything like that.”

  
Heiilios just lets out a long sigh. “Yeah Finnick, I know. No one’s ever had to talk to you about anything because you’re smart, and unlike me, you just seem to get things.” Finnick would disagree with that last part, but Heiilios sounds less self-deprecating, and more like he's trying to prove a point. “But that doesn’t mean it’s okay. You’re too damn independent, and lately, you just seem so—”

Heiilios stops himself and shakes his head.

  
“Forget it,” his brother says, eventually. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m worried about you, for you, since your self-preservation instincts are shit and you act like you don’t even care about anything, anymore.” 

  
“I do. I care, so don’t say that.” Finnick does not want to think about the fact that even his stupidly insensitive brother has been worried about him. “Besides, what about you?” Finnick asks trying to steer the conversation away from himself. “Your name is in there six times this year. What will you do if you’re chosen?" 

  
“See. Right there. You always try to change the conversation. I’m trying to talk about you for once, dammit.”

  
“Well, maybe I don’t want to talk about me.” 

  
Heiilios blinks. “What?”

  
“You heard me.” Finnick starts swimming back to shore.

  
“Finn, wait!” he hears his brother call. Finnick stops swimming and spins around. He’s not mad at his brother. Anything but. Expect Finnick doesn’t want to be here, only hours before the Ceremony, confessing his greatest fears to his older brother who may or may not be Reaped tomorrow.

  
Heiilios swims closer to him and Finnick is forced to notice how uncomfortable his brother looks. Heiilios’ face is pinched tight like he ate something rotten. Yet here he is, trying to comfort and prepare Finnick where their parents never did.

  
“Finn, please,” Heiilios begs. “Just listen for a minute, would you?” Finnick looks at his brother, unimpressed, but Heiilios continues anyways. “I can’t begin to imagine how you must feel. I mean, it seems like you’re handling all of this way better than I did when I was your age, but then again,” his brother shrugs his shoulders.

  
“Are you done?”

  
“I’m no good at this after all," Heiilios mutters. "But, I guess what I’m trying to say, is that you’re allowed to feel scared, and angry, too.”

  
“I know," Finnick says, but Heiilios shakes his head.

  
“Except, I don’t think you do." 

  
“I’ve never told anyone this, but I’m so scared of being Reaped and having to kill somebody, that I can hardly sleep anymore," his brother admits. "I just keep imagining the blood on my hands. It's horrible, Finn. Horrible." 

Finnick looks at his brother wide-eyed and wondering why he's telling him this. 

  
“But, if it means killing another kid to come home, then I would. I wouldn’t even hesitate.”

  
Finnick just stares at his brother, wide-eyed. “Do you remember what you made me promise all those years ago? When I was twelve and couldn’t sleep?” Heiilios asks, suddenly. Finnick nods. Of course, he remembers. He doubts he can ever forget.

  
“Then you already know that you need to come home. Okay, Finnick? You need to win and come home, no matter what.”

  
Finnick wonders how his brother thinks that would even be possible. He’s so weak compared to his brother; young and inexperienced in so many things. Finnick wants to shake Heiilios and tell him that desire won’t change a thing if he isn’t fast, or strong, or clever enough to survive. Instead, he nods.

  
“Okay.”

 

Finnick wants to reassure his brother that killing somebody that's trying to kill you doesn’t make you a bad person. He doesn’t think Heiilios could ever be considered “bad” by anyone’s standards. His brother is many things; infuriating, petty, annoying- but he’s not cruel.

  
Finnick, on the other hand, knows that he’s not a good person, because unlike his brother, he isn’t afraid of having to kill someone. In fact, that particular fear has never even crossed his mind until now.

  
He’s only concerned about keeping himself alive.

 

* * *

A year later, and Heiilios has his first official girlfriend. Her name is Leilani and she's eighteen: a year older than his brother. Leilani is very pretty, Finnick thinks, as he watches her and his brother laugh and throw sand at each other on the beach.

  
Heiilios and Leilani have been dating for about month, and Finnick hasn't seen his brother this happy since they were kids.

  
The suspicious part of Finnick wonders why Leilani chose someone like his brother. Heiilios isn’t ugly, but Leilani is just so flawlessly pretty. She has long, dark hair and sun tinted skin to rival Finnick’s own. Her eyes are blue and contrast greatly with his brother's dark hue. “Finnick, come join us!” Leilani calls, beckoning him over to join their sand fight.

  
“And have sand thrown in my eyes?” Finnick calls back from where he’s lounging several feet away. “I don’t think so!” Leilani only grins at him, and he smiles back. He really hopes that she’s here to stay.

  
There’s a cool breeze along the beach making the summertime sun bearable. “Finnick,” he hears his brother call a few minutes later, “We’re going to run into town for something to eat. You coming?” Even with his eye’s closed Finnick can hear the smile in his brother’s voice.

  
“Nah, I’m good. Feel’s nice here, I’m going to stay.”

  
“Alright,” his brother responds. “Ready, Leilani?”

  
“Actually,” Finnick hears Leilani start, “I was hoping I could stay here with Finnick. Maybe get to know him better?” Finnick sits up now, blinking the spots out of his eyes, and watches Leilani shoot him a playful wink. “I’d like to get to know your family better if that's okay with you.” Leilani sounds so genuine that Heiilios smiles fondly at her.

  
“Of course,” his brother says. “I’ll get something for all of us then and bring it back.”

  
“Thank you,” Leilani says sweetly, giving Heiilios a kiss on the cheek.

  
“Anything for you,” Heiilios says, gently brushing a strand of hair from her face. Finnick watches the display and is struck again by the effect Leilani has on his brother. As if to prove his point, Heiilios calls after Finnick, “you’re welcome too, brat.”

  
“Yeah, yeah,” Finnick just waves him away. A moment later, and it’s only him and Leilani. They are the only ones on the beach at the moment and she walks over to take a seat next to Finnick.

  
“So,” she says casually, “you’re thirteen now?”

  
“Yeah,” Finnick agrees. “I don’t really go to school anymore, though.”

  
“What do you do?”

  
“I work with Heii and my father on our boat."

  
“That’s right,” Leilani says. “I think your brother mentioned that before.”

  
“How about you?” 

  
“I work with my parents at our shop. It’s a fishing supplies store. We sell a bunch of rope, lures, and other materials like—” Leilani suddenly stops and shakes her head. “I’m boring you, aren’t I? I forget that most people aren’t as interested in fishing gear as me.” She laughs a bit to herself.

  
Finnick grins, “No, you’re not boring. I don’t mind listening.”

  
“You’re too sweet,” she replies, lightly tapping him on the arm. She doesn’t even need to reach over, and Finnick suddenly realizes how close she is. He feels himself blush a bit, sitting so close to such a pretty girl, and hopes that Leilani won’t notice.

  
“So, do you have a girlfriend, Finnick?” 

  
“No,” Finnick replies, thinking about all the giggling girls that used to be in his class. Ever since he started working on his father’s boat he hasn’t seen many of those same girls, but whenever he heads toward town he can feel the eyes of men a woman alike follow him.

  
“Really? But, you’re so handsome, I would have thought for sure someone would have scooped you up by now.” Her voice is saccharine sweet, that Finnick ignores the way his stomach roles when she calls him “handsome”.

  
“Yeah,” Finnick nods, not really wanting to explain anything further.

  
“You must have had a girlfriend before though, right? Several, I’d bet.”

  
“Nah. How about you?” he asks, growing uncomfortable. 

 

“Oh sure,” she says, casually. "But, your brother is the sweetest." 

 

Finnick smiles softly, truly happy for his brother. He opens his mouth about to ask Leilani how she met his brother, when she continues, steamrolling over Finnick. 

 

“I just can’t believe you’ve never had a girlfriend before." She tuts her tongue almost disapprovingly.

 

"Wait, does this mean you’ve never kissed a girl before?”

  
“What?” he asks, shifting to face Leilani, but she only smiles at him guilelessly.

  
“Oh jeez, there I go again. Sorry, Finnick. I keep forgetting you’re only thirteen. You just look so much older.” 

  
“Yeah,” he says suddenly wondering when Heiilios is going to get back. He decides to say this out loud. “I wonder when Heii will be back.” 

 

Their shoulders are bumping slightly, and as slyly as he can, Finnick leans away.

  
“What?” she pouts, drawing her knees up to her chest. “You don’t enjoy spending time with me?” 

  
She looks small; fragile, the way she curls up, and Finnick backpedals immediately. “What? No. No, of course not."

  
“I’m just kidding!" Leilani grins, leaning into him. "You’re actually very sweet, aren’t you? I bet when most people see you, they don’t even bother looking past your appearance to actually see how kind and sweet you are.”

  
Finnick feels his throat constrict.

 

“That’s not—” but he doesn’t have the words to finish, because what she said was true, wasn’t it? Finnick may not be kind, or sweet, or anything like that, but when was the last time someone wanted to get to know him? 

  
“It’s okay, Finn, I understand how frustrating that can be,” she says, seemingly gesturing to herself. 

 

Finnick freezes, back going rigid. 

  
“You just called me Finn."

 

His nickname, only spoken by his family, sounds strange coming from Leilani's mouth. Tainted. 

 

Leilani blinks. “I heard Heiilios call you that once. It’s cute.” 

  
“Only my family calls me Finn."

 

"I didn’t think you’d mind,” Leilani says, sounding disappointed. She looks down into her lap, and even though Finnick has no reason to, he feels bad. 

  
He's just about to reassure her that, _“no, it’s alright”_ and that he doesn’t really mind if she wants to call him Finn, except that she suddenly grabs both his hands.

  
“I’m sorry,” Leilani says, squeezing his hands. Finnick feels his face grow warm and looks away. 

 

"I didn't realize your nickname was only for _special_ people." Finnick opens his mouth, about to explain that he was just surprised, but instead, he looks toward the direction his brother left wondering how much longer before Heiilios returns. 

 

"Yeah, it is," he says, instead. 

 

Leilani frowns, but she doesn't drop his hands. "Well, you're important to me, Finnick." She leans closer, and Finnick pretends that he can't feel her breasts pushes up against his side. 

  
“No,” Finnick disagrees, shaking his head. “You don’t even know me.”

  
“No?” Leilani, parrots while tilting her head to the side. “Then let me prove it to you,” but before Finnick can ask when she means, Leilani’s lips are firmly pressed against his own. Finnick, completely surprised, pushes her back, hard.

  
“You just kissed me!” 

  
“Did you like it?” Leilani asks, sitting up from where Finnick pushed her over in the sand. “You’re blushing, I can tell you did.” Leilani leans forward, making Finnick lose his balance and fall back.

  
“What are you doing?” Finnick shouts, starting to sit up, but before he can Leilani pushes him back down. “I’m trying to show you that I like you, Finn.” She uses his nickname again distracting Finnick from the somewhat defenseless position he’s in.

  
“I said don’t—” but before he can finish, Leilani pushes her lips against his again, only this time her kiss feels possessive.

  
“Stop,” he says pushing her up. Finnick has never kissed a girl before, but he’s pretty sure that this isn’t how it’s supposed to feel; that his heart is supposed to be racing in a different sort of way. Leilani’s beautiful eyes suddenly turn pointed and mean. She is still straddling him, and Finnick is reminded that despite her delicate stature, she is still five years older than him.

  
Finnick struggles and shoots his hips out while simultaneously trying to push Leilani off. “Get off!” he shouts, but Leilani only uses Finnick’s movement against him and pins both his wrists to the ground.

  
Leilani lets out a breath, but other than a few strands of hair knocked loose from her ponytail, she looks no worse for wear. “Did you know,” Leilani begins, practically laying on top of Finnick, “that my parents wanted me to be a career tribute.” She laughs, shrill, and _mean_.“Of course, I never was. But, my parents started training me when I was six years old.” Finnick can feel her warm breath on his face, and he forces himself not to give her the satisfaction of looking away. “So, I guess what I’m trying to say is that I can keep you pinned here all day if I want.”

  
Finnick glares at her, and she gives a seemingly disappointed smile. “I wish you could understand how much I like you, Finnick.” 

  
“And what about my brother? What about Heiilios? Was any of that even real to you?”

  
Leilani at least has the decency to look guilty. “Heiilios was so sweet.” 

  
“Was?” Finnick demands, already anticipating the answer.

  
“Finnick, I don’t want him, I want _you_.” 

  
“Then why would you pretend to like him? He really likes you, you know?” Finnick feels his anger rising and starts kicking and flailing again.

  
“I know, he’s like a love-sick puppy.”

 

She tightens her grip on Finnick’s wrist and makes small, disapproving noises at Finnick’s continuous struggle. “But enough about him. What do I have to do to prove that I like you?” Leilani sounds desperate. She must realize, like Finnick, that Heiilios could return at any minute. “Please, Finnick. Let me show you.”

  
Finnick wants to ask what more she can possibly do, but before he has the chance, Leilani removes one of her hands from Finnick’s wrist. For a moment, Finnick thinks she’s going to let him up, but then she gently places her other hand on his hip.

  
“What are you—” but Finnick doesn’t have the chance to finish before he feels Leilani’s long slender fingers slip down the inside of his swim shorts. Finnick’s eyes go wide.

  
“If you’ve never kissed a girl, then I guarantee you’ve never made love to one.” Leilani cups her hand around Finnick’s private parts and stokes lightly.

 

"Let me help you with that.”

  
Finnick feels himself blush, and for a moment forgets he doesn’t want this. He remains absolutely still as Leilani continues to stroke him, and after a moment of Finnick not making any attempt to resist she takes her other hand from his wrist and places her palm on his chest.

  
“You’re so beautiful” Leilani, breathes. “We would look so well together, don’t you think?"

 

It's not that Finnick doesn't like what Leilani's doing. In fact, it feels great. Under different circumstances, Finnick would be excited to have such a beautiful girl jerk him off. 

 

But, not with his brother's (ex) girlfriend. Not with Leilani; five years older than him. 

 

Not now. 

 

"I understand you, Finnick." She leans in and whispers in his ear. "You hide because you're afraid of yourself. Afraid that people will fall in love with the wrong you." Her breaths are hot and rushed. "But, not me Finnick. I'm the same way. I _understand_  the real you. Can you say that about anyone else?" 

 

No, he can't. The thought freezes him. 

  
Leilani smiles, as Finnick seemingly considers her words. Her hand hasn’t stopped moving, and Finnick feels his body reacting uncontrollably to her movements. “I have a lot of experience that I would be happy to show you. How’s that sound?” Leilani nibbles on his ear. Then, without sitting back up, she leaves soft butterfly kisses all over his body, starting from his neck, to his cheek and continues until she kisses him full on. Just like before her kiss is full of hunger and other primal feelings.

  
Finnick considers Leilani’s toned body and delicate features and thinks she truly is stunning. But, now that Finnick has seen her true colors, all her features are tinted dark and mean. Finnick doesn’t want to be anything like her.

  
Before Leilani can see what’s happening, Finnick grabs a handful of sand and throws it in her eyes. Finnick considers punching her but considers otherwise knowing Leilani could easily grab his wrists again.

She rears back, hands rubbing at her eyes, and Finnick uses the opportunity to push her off of him. Some of the sand falls into his eyes too, and Finnick forces himself not to stop and rub at them, and focus on getting away. She rears back and the hand still down Finnick’s swim shorts instinctively pulls at his shorts as she falls.

Finnick, like an animal, skitters back, grasping at his shorts as he does.

  
He's swum naked with Heiilios and some other kids from his neighborhood and has never felt embarrassed. But now, the situation has changed and suddenly Finnick feels exposed.

  
“Stop!” Finnick yells, extending one arm in front of him, while the other is unsuccessfully trying to adjust his shorts. And, strangely enough, Leilani actually does stop. Her features are twisted and full of anger, that if Finnick had to guess, is less from being rejected and more from not getting what she wanted.

  
“You stupid, brat!” Leilani cries. “Do you know how many guys would kill to be in your position? I’m offering you all of me, Finnick.” She gestures toward her body, but Finnick doesn’t blush this time. “Don’t you understand?”

  
Leilani rears forward, to do what Finnick doesn’t entirely know, but before she can climb back on top of him, there is a hand on her shoulder throwing her into the sand. Finnick looks up and through the shadow of the sun sees the silhouette of Heiilios, stiff and radiating fury.

  
“What the fuck is going on?” he growls. Finnick has never seen his brother this angry before and although Finnick doesn’t realize it at first, he’s shaking.

  
Heiilios glances at a wide-eyed and shaking Finnick before turning his attention back to Leilani. Leilani is standing and dusting herself off by the time Heiilios looks back over. Half of her hair has been pulled out of her ponytail, but otherwise, she looks as gorgeous as ever.

  
“What the fuck did you do?” Heiilios yells at her. When he’s angry, Heiilios both sounds and looks lot like their father; big and mean. Leilani, for her part, recovers remarkably. She pouts her lips and manages to look both hurt _and_ adorable.

  
“I-I don’t—he just pulled me on top of him." Finnick catches the glint in her eye that tells him that even she knows this excuse isn’t going to work. To her credit, she at least tries to make the lie sounds convincing. “I told him, no, but he held me on top of him and started kissing me.” She wipes her mouth as she says this, and Finnick, mirroring her, does the same.

  
“Get out of my fucking face,” his brother’s voice sounds so deadly, that Finnick actually finds himself afraid.

  
“Heiilios?”

 

"You better hope I never see you again."

  
Heiilios stalks toward her and Leilani takes a step back. For all her bragging that she was trained as a career, Heiilios is still bigger and stronger than her. Finnick can’t see what kind of expression his bother is making, but Leilani must see something in Heiilios’ face because she stumbles back a step before sprinting off.

  
Heiilios turns himself toward the ocean, and away from Finnick. He watches his brother take several deep breaths before he turns to face him. When he does, his brother’s eyes soften, and Heiilios extends his hand out. Finnick, suddenly aware that his shorts are still sagging off his hips quickly pulls them up before grabbing his brother’s hand.

  
“Thanks,” Finnick says, wishing his voice didn’t sound so unsteady. 

 

“Are you okay?”

  
Finnick, not wanting to speak again, nods his head. The lie rings incredibly false, especially when Finnick’s own hands won’t stop shaking, but thankfully Heiilios doesn’t call him out on it.

  
Finnick begins dusting himself off, afraid to meet his brother’s worried eyes.

  
“Finnick?” Heiilios says, softly. “Are you hurt anywhere?”

  
As if suddenly remembering the painful way Leilani grabbed him, Finnick rubs at his wrists. There’s nothing there yet, but Finnick wouldn’t be surprised if there were bruises in a bit. “I’m fine,” Finnick says weakly, and physically that’s mostly true.

  
“Finnick?” His brother asks again, just as gentle as before. Finnick continues brushing imaginary sand from his legs and doesn’t answer.

  
“Finn, look at me, please?” Finnick shudders at the nickname. Ultimately, it’s the “please” that makes Finnick look up. As soon as he does, Finnick wishes he hadn’t. Heiilios’ eyes are so full of concern that Finnick has to immediately look away.

  
“Did she…do anything to you?” His brother gets this pinched look on his face like he hates having to ask.

  
“No!” Finnick exclaims, suddenly embarrassed by his own inability to stop Leilani. “No, she didn’t—nothing happened.”

 

He looks toward the ocean and takes a deep breath. “I mean, she, uh, tried to, I guess.” Finnick doesn't look at his brother, too afraid of the disgust he'll undoubtedly see. “But, she didn’t do…much.”

  
“Much?” 

  
“Nothing!” Finnick quickly corrects. “I meant she didn’t do…anything.” The lie rings false again, and Heiilios looks physically pained.

  
“Shit,” his brother swears, quietly. “That fucking bitch. I shouldn’t have left you alone with her.” 

  
“You didn’t know,” Finnick says. “She seemed nice. I was really happy for you.” 

  
“Finnick, you—” 

  
“She said that we were alike,” Finnick interrupts, “And, uh, I don’t want to believe her, but what she said, kind of made sense.” Finnick feels his stomach roll, admitting this out loud. Somehow, the thought that Heiilios would agree with Finnick, that he and Leilani were in any way similar made him anxious to tell his brother the rest.

  
“Wha’d she say?” Heiilios prods gently.

  
Finnick, for the first time, takes his eyes off the water to look at his brother. “She, uh, said that we were both beautiful,” Finnick spits out the word ‘beautiful’, “and that she said she knows what it feels like to have people look at you, but, um, not really see you?” Finnick sounds unsure of himself even to his own ears and wonders what he must sound like to his brother. Heiilios hates when Finnick acts pathetic or weak and Finnick knows, what with the way his hands continue to shake and his voice still wavers, that he does sound pathetic, weak.

  
“Is that true?” Heiilios asks. Finnick dares to meet his brother’s eyes and finds that there is no judgement in them.

  
“What?” Finnick asks, confused.

  
“I mean, is what she said true? Do you really feel that way?” 

  
Finnick feels his heart beat quicken. He had alluded to feeling this way months ago, but never really admitted the words out loud. “Yes,” Finnick says finally, and for the first time, his voice is steady. “All the time.”

What Leilani said was true. All of it. He can’t remember the last time he had a real friend or even a decent conversation that never once made him feel like the other person wasn’t undressing him with their eyes.

  
Finnick waits for the other shoe to drop, for Heiilios to confirm Finnick’s suspicion that yes, he and Leilani were actually very similar after all.

  
Heiilios lets out a deep sigh before placing his hand on Finnick’s shoulder. “No, Finn, you’re nothing like her, believe me.” Heiilios sounds really upset when he says this for some reason, but this confirmation, that no, Finnick really is nothing like Leilani, is enough to make him sag in relief.

 

Heiilios slugs his arm around his side in what is as close to a hug that he’s ever gotten from his brother. “I’m sorry about your girlfriend, though,” Finnick adds as an afterthought. “I know you really liked her.”

  
“Fuck that bitch."

  
“I’d really rather not.” Finnick says, smirking at his brother’s surprised look. Heiilios takes a moment to study Finnick before he slowly starts to grin. Finnick doesn’t need Heiilios to reassure him that he’s alright. Finnick knows he’s alright, just like he knows that if Heiilios hadn’t been there to stop Leilani that things might not have been as alright.

  
Heiilios looks like he doesn’t know what to say, so Finnick speaks instead. “Let's just go home." The suggestion seems like an easy one, even though Finnick doesn’t actually want to go home, but he feels that telling his already concerned brother that he wants to hold his head under the waves and scream until his lungs burn and his mind stops whispering “what if”, would not be the best idea.

“Okay,” his brother agrees easily enough. “Let’s go home.”

 

* * *

The day before his fourteenth birthday, Finnick shatters the only mirror in their house. He cuts up his knuckles doing so, and when he has to explain why the mirror is gone, and his hand is wrapped in ribbons of old t-shirts, Finnick quotes, “it was an accident.”

  
His father dismisses the accident, but for the next week, his mother looks at him strangely, leading Finnick to believe his lie wasn’t as well received as he originally thought.

  
Heiilios, strangely enough, doesn’t say a thing.

  
But, Finnick would rather shred his knuckles into pieces from punching 100 more mirrors, than admit the truth out loud.

  
_“Fourteen, and already such a handsome boy,”_ his mother croons, pushing back his hair.

  
_“You look all grown up, now,”_ she says, looking up at him, something heavy in her eyes.

  
Finnick will never admit the hideous, ugly truth aloud, because if he did, if he put words to what happened that afternoon, then he would have to explain in detailed clarity that when he dared to look into the mirror for the first time in months, he couldn’t even recognize the face staring back.

 

* * *

In some ways, when their District’s representative, Cagney Lovelace, delicately unfolds the slip of paper and reads Finnick’s name, it feels a lot like accepting his fate.

He’s fourteen, bearing his everything to the world, determined to be the youngest victor in the history of the Hunger Games.

_“Come home, no matter what."_

May the odds be ever in his favor, indeed.


	2. High Tide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I know he’s only fourteen, mom, but the way he killed those older kids so effortlessly…” Heiilios trails off, shaking his head. “I don’t even know what I’m saying. It’s not like I’d prefer the alternative, and—” his breath hitches. “I’m glad he’s home. I’m really, really, glad. But, like, sometimes I feel like—” he chokes up. This is too much for him. The words are trapped in his throat. He doesn’t even know how to convey what he means. And, honestly, what does he mean? How is he accurately supposed to convey his irrational fear that ‘oh shit, he dropped a plate and now there’s a knife in his back’.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally the first half to a very long chapter, but with that being said, I decided to split the chapter into two parts and make this "short" story a bit longer. Now, there will be four chapters total. Both this chapter and the next chapter will be from Heiilios' POV, with the final chapter reverting back to Finnick. Hope you guys enjoy, and please let me know any errors you find.

* * *

Heiilios knows he’s not a great person. In fact, he doubts that he’s even a good person. If he were to describe himself, he would label himself somewhere closer to average. He realizes he's not the most sympathetic person. Moments with tears, hugs, and affection are too messy for him. He prefers life to be black or white; not the daunting shade of gray that accompanies sensitive situations where there is no “right answer”. 

Where he's liable to screw up.

But, that’s not to say Heiilios doesn’t care. Because he does. More than anyone would first assume. He just doesn’t know how to properly express that yes, he does in fact care. At least, not like his younger brother Finnick, who tries so hard to act like he doesn’t care about anything but wears his heart on his sleeve.

Or, at least that’s what Heiilios thinks. Perhaps he has a unique view being Finnick’s older brother, but other than him, his younger brother probably has the entire damn world fooled into thinking that he’s the cool, charming, handsome type. And, well, Heiilios can admit that last part is true. His brother is handsome. Annoyingly so. Which, in retrospect, is one of the main reasons his younger brother won his Games. But, Finnick is definitely not cool or charming

At least he wasn’t.

Nowadays, Heiilios isn’t so sure.

His brother used to hate the spotlight, shying away from it as much as possible. He was quiet and reserved; not quite shy, but not overly outgoing either. Yet, the Finnick that returned from the Capitol less than a week ago, soaks up the spotlight as if he feeds off attention rather than food. And, maybe he does, Finnick certainly looks thinner; his collar bones poking through the t-shirt he’s wearing.

Finnick is friendly. Polite to a fault. His brother sleeps till noon half the time and is a complete brat to try and wake up. Finnick has a healthy appetite, and make’s eye contact during conversation. That last bit threw Heiilios off the most. He never realized how often Finnick would avoid meeting his eyes until recently. Now, Heiilios finds his brother’s undivided attention almost unnerving.

The thing is, everything about Finnick screams “well-adjusted”, which Heiilios just can’t believe is true. 

His brother has always been too talented of an actor for his own good.

His brother is slyer than a snake in conversation; a skill that Heiilios is simultaneously awed and frightened of at the same time. Even during his brother’s Games, Finnick was never the strongest. He wasn’t the smartest either. The Career tributes had him out-classed and out-smarted as every turn. His brother didn’t know much about wildlife survival, or even how to use a crossbow. But, better than anybody else, Finnick _knew_ people; how to read them, seduce them, manipulate them. That wasn’t a skill that was taught, but one learnt through time and exposure.

Heiilios doesn’t have to think very hard to figure out why Finnick is so closed off from others. While his brother may seem giving and light to outsiders, Heiilios still catches rare, vulnerable moments that belie Finnick’s lack of faith in humanity. Heiilios knows distantly that the obstacles Finnick faced when he was younger were very different than his own. There’s a hurt somewhere deep inside his brother. Heiilios doesn’t pretend to understand his brother, but sometimes he’ll catch Finnick staring at strangers with a blank unreadable look that makes him think Finnick has gone somewhere else.

They grew up together, but the differences between them only continues to grow. Heiilios wonders if his brother is afraid of anything. Finnick is only fourteen, yet has seen some of the worst act’s humanity has to offer. Surely, Heiilios thinks that would leave a mark on somebody. Except, Finnick looks completely fine. In the rare, unguarded moments Heiilios catches his brother alone, he thinks that Finnick merely looks bitter; like he could care less if the people around him rotted away and died. And, wasn’t that a formidable thought. If there’s anything left for his brother to fear, Heiilios doesn’t think he has the courage to ask.

Finnick doesn’t talk about his Games mostly because he doesn’t have to. His brother had more footage than any other tribute. More sponsors too. After the second night, his brother never had to worry about basic survival necessities like food or water. If Finnick weren’t his brother, Heiilios would have thought the level of doting he received from Capitol sponsor’s to be ridiculous. When Finnick caught a fish in the river, there would be a parachute with a pack of matches waiting upon his return to shore. Once, his brother lifted his shirt to wipe the sweat from his brow, and three parachutes filled with canisters of water landed at his feet.

Heiilios doesn’t like to consider his brother. Anytime he does, he’s forced to remember the way Finnick killed with a calm, focused face that belied his brutal, efficient methods. Heiilios clearly remembers, there was neither pride nor regret when his brother thrust his spear through the chest of the boy from District One. At first glance, Finnick made killing the other tributes seem _easy_. And, Heiilios is many things, but he’s not an idiot, so he knows that taking another life isn’t that easy no matter what the Capitol forces you to believe. Only, every time he considers the “how’s” and logistics behind every death, does he start to believe his brother may be a dangerous person.

Heiilios perks up from where he sits brooding on the couch when he hears his name called from the kitchen. He looks over and sees his mother tucked behind the stove.

“Dinner’s ready,” she calls. To her right, Heiilios catches his brother staring at him; evaluating him. When they lock eyes, Finnick just smiles and turns away. 

Dangerous indeed.

Their family now lives in this fancy-ass house in Victors Village. There are four bedrooms, the smallest bedroom being nearly three times larger than Heiilios’ old bedroom. There’s a kitchen with more pantry and storage space than they’ve ever had food, and a separate room just for eating. The main room, (which Heiilios learned is called a ‘living room’) is furnished with two couches parallel to each other and separated by only a small table in the center. There is an empty wooden bookshelf next to a plastic tree in one corner of the room, and a giant TV angled in the other. The ceiling is high and the rooms have a faint echo in them, which their mother assures will disappear once they move some more furniture into the house.

Heiilios thinks the house is expensive, fancy, and cold.

There’s a lot of restless energy in the house. Their mother quit her job, and their father only goes out on the boat on the weekends, now. Now that Heiilios doesn’t spend fourteen hours a day out at sea, he’s realized he doesn’t really have any hobbies, or any idea how to enjoy himself. It would be enlightening if it weren’t so damn depressing. From the way his brother and parents wander around aimless, they’re struggling to find purpose, too.

Heiilios wants to be able to say everything has returned to normal (see, everyone is together again, isn’t that _great_?), except Heiilios doesn’t remember normal feeling so fragile, like they’re all holding their breath waiting for the other shoe to drop. Then again, maybe he’s the only one who feels that way.

Like now, for instance. His parents and brother all sit around this big-ass table eating their fucking dinner and laughing at each other’s jokes like it’s _normal_. Heiilios doesn’t wonder why he’s so annoyed by the scene, only focusing on the fact that he _is_.

Their dad says something or other that has Finnick coughing from laughing so hard. His brother wipes at his eyes, and Heiilios can’t help but openly stare. He doesn’t know much about the other victors of previous Games, but shouldn’t his brother be at least a little bit more messed up? Heiilios means that in the kindest way possible, but Finnick only returned a week ago, after all. Don’t his parents see this type of behavior as strange?  Heiilios shoots his mother a glance across the table and notices her smiling fondly at the two of them.

Yeah, so that’s a clear, no.

Heiilios just thinks that if his brother never laughed before the Games, what the hell is there to laugh about now?

Hell, maybe everyone is kicking along just fine, and Heiilios is the one unable to move on. He grins at the thought. Wouldn’t that just be a fucking riot? His brother endures some traumatic shit, his parents lose the house they’ve lived in for over twenty years, and Heiilios is the one who’s the most affected.

Yeah, he doesn’t buy it for a second. It’s more likely, his parents are willing to pretend like nothing is wrong if Finnick goes along with it, and Finnick is trying to keep his parents from worrying about him, so he acts like nothing’s wrong.

Heiilios loves his family, he really does, but sometimes they’re just so damn exhausting to be around. Like now, everyone is too damn focused on trying to act normal that they forget what normal even means for them. Heiilios doesn’t know what being an Odair and being normal have in common, but he doubts the answer is eating together and laughing at things that are hardly even funny.

Yeah, everyone is acting is absolutely ridiculous, but if his family is trying to regain a sense of normality, who is he to criticize them? He doesn’t intend to call-out his family on their bizarre behavior though, which is why Heiilios is surprised when Finnick knocks on his door later that night. He’s half-asleep when he hears the knocking, and for a moment, Heiilios thinks he’s hearing things because since when has anyone ever bothered to knock before? Usually, his brother or his parents will just barge in unannounced. Except, the quiet knocking continues, and after another minute Heiilios crawls out of bed and cracks open the door to see Finnick standing there, wide awake.

“Can I come in?” Finnick asks, sea green eyes, meeting his own hazel hue.

“Yeah,” Heiilios says opening the door. “Yeah, of course.” He flicks on the light and takes note of his brother. Finnick’s wearing the same clothes he had been wearing at dinner earlier. His hair is perfectly brushed back and unruffled. There’s nothing distressed about him per se, but Heiilios can’t help but notice the way his brother’s eyes go from the window, to the closet, before finally returning to him.

“Are you okay? What’s wrong?” Heiilios asks, concerned. His brother looks okay, relatively speaking, but Heiilios knows better than anybody that appearances can be deceiving. His brother meets his gaze, once again, and Heiilios feels the foreboding sense of dread that something is seriously wrong for this brother to address him with such seriousness this late at night.

 Finnick steps into his room, and Heiilios goes to close the door before Finnick interrupts. “Keep it open,” his brother demands.

“Yeah, but mom and dad—”

“It’s fine. We’ll keep our voices down.” Finnick says, tone offering no room for argument.

“Okay, yeah, sure. Door stays open,” Heiilios concedes. He stifles a yawn before facing his brother and raising a brow expectantly.

"You keep watching me,” Finnick states. He’s whispering, but there’s a lilt in his brother’s voice that has Heiilios thinking this statement isn’t a friendly one.

Heiilios nods his head. “Yeah, I have been,” he agrees.

“Why?” Finnick’s eye’s narrow.

“Well, can you blame me, Finn?” Heiilios asks, not appreciating his brother’s hostile tone. “You went through some pretty tough shit and no one was sure if you were gonna to come back alive or in a damn body bag. I feel like I’m seeing a fucking ghost,” Heiilios snaps. Was Finnick really getting on his case about him caring? That’s a low shot even for his brother.

“I’m fine,” Finnick says, frowning. “You don’t have to worry about me,” he says like that’s the obvious solution. And, to Finnick’s messed up mind, it probably is. For all that his brother is cunning, quick witted, and can understand reason and motive like nobody else, it’s like he has a damn mental block when talking about himself. Heiilios isn’t sure if that’s because Finnick thinks nobody worries about him, or that he’s not worth worrying about in the first place.

“You’re not fine, so cut that crap,” Heiilios interjects. “You can pretend to be as fine as you want in front of mom and dad, but not with me.”

Finnick’s frown only deepens. “You can think whatever you want about me, but just stop watching my every move, okay?” Finnick replies. Heiilios just laughs.

“Never going to happen, Finn,” he says, smirking at his brother’s grimace. “As long as you have a family that cares about you, someone will always be watching out for you.”

“That’s fine, but just,” Finnick runs his hand through his hair, looking increasingly frustrated. “Just, stop treating me like I’m some piece of fucking glass, yeah? I can’t stand that shit. You may not believe me, but I’m okay, alright? And you staring at me all the time just pisses me off.”

Heiilios feels his eyes widen. “Finnick, I’ve never once thought of you like glass.” He says the words slowly, willing his younger brother to get them through his thick head. Heiilios remembers the way his brother spun and twirled the most beautiful trident Heiilios has ever seen, like the weapon was an extension of his arm. In the few fleeting moments when his brother gracefully twirled his trident- a skill Heiilios was shocked to see his brother possess- and a sense of confidence unbefitting of someone who could die at any moment, Heiilios understood why the Capitol loved his brother. The trident was a present from Finnick’s fans in the Capitol, but his brother never twirled his trident for them. When Finnick pierced the heart of the boy from District One without an ounce of hesitance, he did it solely for himself.

Heiilios wonders how Finnick, who just became the youngest victor of the Hunger Games, could think that anyone sees him at weak. 

“Did mom and dad put you up to this?” Finnick asks, crossing his arms.

“What?” Heiilios asks, genuinely confused. “Wha’d ya mean? Put me up to what?”

His brother just looks annoyed now. “Watching me! What the hell do you think we’re talking about?”

Heiilios just looks at Finnick completely dumbfounded, wondering how his brother could be so smart, yet so damn stupid. “What the fuck, Finn? No, no they didn’t put me up to anything. Are you really so damn paranoid that you think mom and dad told me to fucking _watch_ you? Ever think that maybe I’m just worried about you?” Heiilios rubs his temples, trying to stave of the oncoming headache he feels when trying to deal with his brother.

“I already told you to stop worrying about me because I’m fine,” Finnick states, plainly.

Heiilios has to resist slapping a hand to his face in frustration, because he’s pretty sure they just had this exact conversation two minutes ago. Instead, he tries a different approach.

“Okay, you win. I’ll stop worrying about you,” Heiilios says. Sometimes, the best way to deal with Finnick’s stubbornness is to give his brother the answer he wants.

Finnick’s eyes narrow. “Really?” he asks.

“Yeah, really,” he lies.

Finnick studies his face for a moment, considering, before he finally says, “I don’t believe you.”

Heiilios can’t help raking his fingers down his face. “Ugh, you are impossible, you know that?” Heiilios groans, and for some strange reason his brother grins. “Is this what you woke me up for at three in the morning? To ask me to stop “spying” on you?” Heiilios asks, sarcasm practically dripping from his voice. “Or, did you have something else you wanted?”

“It’s actually two. Not three,” Finnick corrects.

“Oh, well, my fucking bad,” Heiilios deadpans, and Finnick cracks a smile. Not one of the fake dinner smiles he puts on for their parents, but a real fucking smile. His brother shrugs his shoulders. “Why are you even in your clothes anyways? Don’t you sleep?” Heiilios jokingly asks. Only when the words leave his mouth does he consider that his brother might misinterpret the meaning as something more wanting.

“Yes, I sleep, idiot,” Finnick barks. “I was just thinking, that’s all,” his brother says, like that’s the obvious reason for him still wearing his daytime clothes at two in the morning.

“O-kay, sure. Whatever you say, _kiddo_ ,” Heiilios rolls his eyes, clear disbelief in his voice. Finnick hates pet-names, which means that he has a moral obligation to use them all the time just to annoy his brother. Surprisingly, Finnick merely ignores him, preferring to look around Heiilios’ room instead. Heiilios watches his brother walk over to the closet, open it up, look inside for a moment before closing the doors and walking around again.

“Can I help you?” Heiilios drawls.

“Nah, I’m fine, thanks,” Finnick waves him off. It’s a shame, Heiilios thinks, that his brother managed to survive the Games only to die now.

“Finnick,” Heiilios threatens, voice going low.

“Hmm?” Finnick hums, ignoring Heiilios in favor of looking out the window.

“If you don’t need anything else then get out,” Heiilios whisper-yells. He’s not feeling particularly accommodating to his brother’s whims at the moment. Dealing with Finnick in the waking hours was enough of a pain.  

“Hey, hey! No need to get all upset, I’m just looking,” Finnick raises his hands. “You’ve got a real nice view here,” his brother comments, already cracking open Heiilios’ window. “It’s nicer than the view in my room.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Yeah, look- you can actually make out the ocean from here,” Finnick says, pointing to the sliver of water in the distance. “My view is shit compared to yours. Just a bunch of houses that all look identical to ours.”

“Gee, I wonder why that could be,” Heiilios deadpans.

“Actually,” Finnick continues, ignoring Heiilios, “I think you’ve got a nicer room too. I mean, I have a bigger closet, I guess. But—” Finnick shrugs his shoulders.

“You asked for the biggest room, dumbass” Heiilios rolls his eyes.

“Y-eah, I did. But, now that I’m actually looking, I think I like yours better,” Finnick argues. “Can we switch?” Finnick just stares at him and Heiilios is tempted to laugh.

“You’re serious?” Heiilios asks, smirk already dropping when Finnick’s expression doesn’t change.

“Yeah,” Finnick replies, still staring out the window.

“Are you kidding me? No, Finnick. We’re not switching rooms. Now, go to sleep, or back to “thinking” or whatever the hell you were doing because I’m done talking if you’ve got nothing to say,” Heiilios complains, turning away from Finnick and toward his bed.

“Wait!” his brother calls, a moment later, twirling to face Heiilios.

“What?” Heiilios snaps. He expects his brother to have that impish grin on his face as he usually adorns when he knows he’s acting like a complete shit, but instead, his brother’s eyes are locked on the ground as he shuffles around nervously. Heiilios doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to completely understand his brother, but Finnick refusing eye contact is generally a bad sign. He feels himself grow apprehensive.

“Um, well, I know this is a weird request, and if you say no, I would completely understand. Like, I wouldn’t even care if you say no, so don’t feel like—”

“Finnick!” Heiilios calls, cutting of his brother’s nervous rambling. “Spit it out.”

“Can, I um, sleep with you?” Finnick asks, nervously. Then, as if just realizing what he said, his brother looks up with worried eyes and rushes to continue. “Wait, no! I meant, can I sleep in the room with you? Not with you, because that would be weird,” his brother laughs awkwardly. “It’s just…weird. I don’t know. We always slept in the same room and now since we don’t have to, we’re not, so I guess—”

“Finn,” Heiilios cuts his brother off again, rubbing at his temples. “Why didn’t you just lead with that?” he asks. “I don’t care. It’s not like I can kick you out” Heiilios says, trying for a joke, but his brother just pales.

“Sorry, that was a weird question. Just forget I asked you,” Finnick laughs awkwardly, heading for the door. “Sorry, again. Um, goodnight.” Heiilios just stares. What the hell just happened? Only his brother can go from being angry at him, to embarrassed enough to leave the room.

The voice in the back of his head warns him that his brother is too cunning for such emotional displays, but it’s also two in the morning, and Heiilios is too disoriented to consider the voice seriously.

“Finnick!” he calls after his brother. Finnick stops and turns, and Heiilios hates the stupid hopeful look on his brother’s face. “What the hell? I said you could sleep in my room tonight, where are you going?”

Finnick opens his mouth, stops, closes his mouth, and just stares at Heiilios. “I thought you were kidding,” his brother says, finally. Heiilios must be making some sort of face, because Finnick rushes to continue, “You just seemed annoyed.” Finnick shrugs his shoulders. “Like, you finally got a room to yourself and now your stupid, _kid_ brother wants to take that away from you.” Finnick stresses the word “kid” making Heiilios wince.

That’s the thing about talking to his brother, Heiilios muses, because when he’s not an impish little brat, he’s so damn depressing.

Heiilios just sighs. “I swear, if you’re not in different clothes and back in this room in five minutes, I’m actually going to kill you. Which, would just be a real fucking tragedy considering what you did to stay alive,” Heiilios threatens.

Finnick just looks Heiilios dead in the eye, and Heiilios would like to know what his brother is seeing that he only nods his head a moment later, before leaving the room. Several minutes later, and Finnick cracks open Heiilios’ bedroom door, toting a blanket and pillow in hand.

“What are you doing?” Heiilios intones, when Finnick ignores the other half of his bed, sitting on the floor instead.

“Getting set up,” Finnick replies spreading the blanket over the cool ground. Heiilios doesn’t have a remark for that, and after a minute his brother looks up. “This is fine, right?” Finnick questions, tone casual, yet refusing to meet Heiilios’ unamused glare.

“Get the fuck up,” Heiilios snaps, with more heat than he meant. How the hell does his brother get the idea that he’s only allowed to sleep on the fucking ground? Like, what the fuck? Heiilios may be shit at being sympathetic or showing his feelings for others, but he’s not a heartless bastard. “This bed is big enough for two people,” he says, patting the opposite side of the bed.

“Seriously?” Finnick asks, “You’re fine with this?”

“I wouldn’t have agreed if I wasn’t,” Heiilios shrugs. “Besides, we used to share a bed when we were kids. Don’t you remember?”

“Yeah, when I was five!” Finnick exclaims.

“Uh-huh? And, I was nine. Your point?” Heiilios quips, rolling his eyes at his brother’s ridiculous expression. “Seriously, Finn, it’s not a big deal. If sleeping in the same bed bothers you so much, we could just move your bed in here,” he says, gesturing to the empty corner of the room. “Then, it’ll be like old times again.”

“And, you really don’t care?” Finnick repeats.

“Come on, already,” Heiilios grumbles, rolling over. He closes his eyes pretending to be asleep, when a moment later he hears the other half of the bed creak under his brother’s weight. 

It makes sense, Heiilios thinks, with the way everything is changing for his brother, that Finnick would want something normal. Something Heiilios realizes that Finnick has yet to understand, is that things don’t have to be normal for them to be good. Like now, for instance, Heiilios is eighteen and sleeping in the same bed as his fourteen-year-old brother who wasn’t afraid to get blood on his hands, but doesn’t want to sleep alone.

As he listens to his brother’s breathing begin to slow, Heiilios remembers the time he told Finnick that his worst fear was having to kill someone. He realizes now how naive he had been. Heiilios is not a good person, he didn’t volunteer for his brother despite knowing the chances of someone so young winning the Games. In the past, he always made fun of Finnick for being over-emotional and weak. But, seeing his brother in the arena, strong, clever and resourceful enough to survive, Heiilios realizes that Finnick was never the weak one. He promised himself that if his brother won, if Finnick came home, Heiilios would try to become a better person and stick it out with his brat of a little brother no matter how screwed up Finnick became. After all, seeing his brother nearly killed more instances than he’d care to remember, Heiilios realized that he was wrong.

His worst fear isn’t having to kill someone, but rather having to watch someone he loved be killed.

 

* * *

Finnick leaves for his Victory Tour a week later. The letter he receives in the mail detailing his departure date, leaves his brother in a sour mood for the next few days. Heiilios snaps at him the night before his brother is set to depart. “Stop pouting,” he barks, “You’re acting like a child.”

Finnick levels him with a glare cooler than ice. “Shut up. You don’t even know what the fuck you’re saying.”

Heiilios groans, annoyed. “Yeah, cause I’m sure going to parties and being catered to must be so fucking horrible.”

Heiilios is expecting them to go at it, because Finnick has been a literal shit to deal with lately, but strangely enough his brother is silent. Probably because Finnick knows he’s right- the brat. Only, when Heiilios and his parents see his brother off the next morning does he consider Finnick may not actually want to go back. Finnick is sporting bloodshot eyes and a tired grin. His brother says goodbye to him without a hint of animosity, which okay, his brother isn’t the type to hold grudges, but still. Does Finnick try to make him feel bad on purpose? _Probably_ , he thinks, cynically.

But, once Finnick leaves, so do his parents. Heiilios isn’t sure what they do, exactly, but they’re gone by the time Heiilios wakes up, and don’t return until late at night.

Heiilios finds that being alone is strange. He wouldn’t call himself bored, exactly, but he sometimes remembers his busy days with longing. 

He definitely doesn’t miss waking up early, though. Heiilios doubt’s he’ll ever miss waking up before the sun rises. Although, lately, by the time he gathers the energy to pull himself out of bed, the time is usually past noon, and late enough for Heiilios to procrastinate the rest of the day.

The feeling is odd; being the only person alone in such a large house that has more rooms than people. Heiilios considers finding a hobby; anything to relieve the sense of boredom that’s followed him around like a shadow since he’s moved, but every time he thinks about leaving the house, his feet stop moving before he makes it to the door.

The thing about his brother being the youngest victor in the Hunger Games, is that Finnick is a celebrity now. There are giant holographic projections of his brother around every street corner, and Heiilios can’t even walk through town without someone recognizing him as the older brother of the Capitol’s most darling Victor.

He wouldn’t mind the attention, except that it isn’t for him. When he’s talking to other people, he’s not Heiilios. Instead, he’s ‘Finnick’s older brother’. The townspeople are worse than cockroaches; crawling out of the woodwork to try and get his attention. Adults clap him on the back and congratulate him like Heiilios had something to do with his brother’s victory, while the guys his age joke around with him and the girls flirt shamelessly. Heiilios knows these people don’t really care about him. He goes to the market, and people give him free fruits and vegetables to give to his brother. He drops by the beach and old classmates he hasn’t spoken with in years, suddenly want to “catch up”.

Really, Heiilios shouldn’t be surprised. This development isn’t exactly new. No matter where he went, even before Finnick won the Games, Heiilios was always overshadowed by his brother, often cast aside in favor of his more-attractive, quick witted, younger brother.

There’s a part of him that feels bad for his brother. Finnick never asked to look the way he does; it’s not his fault people drape themselves over his brother like a fucking blanket. He’s not mad at his brother, not really. But, there’s also a part of himself, a selfish, bitter part that’s filled with self-pity and craves sympathy.

So, it’s not that he doesn’t want to leave the house, but more that he doesn’t want to be reminded of his brother and why he’s in this miserable situation in the first place. Except, forgetting about Finnick is hard to do when every single thing in the damned house reminds him of his brother.

Heiilios flips on the over-sized TV in their living room, flopping down on the couch as he does. He flicks through the channels lazily. The satellite outside their house only receives Capitol stations, so most of the channels are boring, mind-numbing nonsense. Heiilios is about to turn off the TV and resign himself to another day of absolute boredom, when he sees a familiar set of blonde locks gesticulating wildly to the pink-headed host of some talk show.

Heiilios recognizes Finnick immediately and has to wonder if someone isn’t out to personally spite him. His brother is clad in orange pants that look a size too tight, along with ocean-blue suspenders hooked around his brother’s shoulders. His brother is also barefoot and shirtless, sitting cross-legged in the chair parallel to the host. Finnick grins, cockily, with a newfound confidence his brother never had before the Games.

Heiilios has seen about a hundred different shows featuring his younger brother, but he’s never seen this one, so with nothing better to do, he sits and watches.

Finnick, and the female host who appears to be named Queenie, are playing some game that includes signs with X’s on one side, and O’s on the other. Pictures flick across the screen in the background, and together they squabble and laugh while holding up their signs whenever a new picture flashes across the screen. The photos don’t make much sense to Heiilios- some are obviously fashion prints, while others are close-ups of body parts- but Finnick laughs along with Queenie like he understands exactly what’s going on.

Heiilios watches Queenie slide a gentle hand on his brother’s thigh, and Heiilios isn’t sure what he expects to happen, but certainly not his brother giving Queenie a flirtatious smile in return. He flicks off the television immediately.

 _What the fuck?_ He thinks, angrily. How can his brother act like the Capitol is such a miserable, horrible place, but eye-fuck Pinkie-pie on television? Who the fuck did Finnick think he was? His brother wasn’t allowed to bitch and cry about the Capitol when all Finnick appeared to do was sit around and play stupid-ass game shows with the very same people they used to make fun of as kids. Finnick smiles without a worry in the world, as if the people in their own District aren’t working their asses off and starving so that Finnick and his new pals can dine on fucking caviar every night. 

No, his brother wasn’t allowed to be proud of where he is, but ashamed at how he got there. His brother can’t just kill other kids and act like nothing has changed; can’t fuck up Heiilios’ life and not even _know_. 

He hurls the TV remote at the wall and watches as the batteries explode from the back and scatter across the room. Fucking fantastic. Naturally, this is the moment his mother walks through the door, bag of groceries in her hand.

“Heiilios?” she calls, sounding confused. “What was that?” Heiilios glances at his mother, and sees her blow an errant piece of hair from her face.

“Nothing, Ma,” Heiilios sighs, already across the room and picking up the remote. He pretends he doesn’t feel her eyes on the back of his head. He hears the rustling of groceries and turns to see his mom setting the bag on the counter. She puts one hand on her hip and uses the other to wipe the sweat from her face.

“When was the last time you left the house?” his mom asks.

Heiilios shrugs. “I don’t know. Few days, maybe?” he replies.

“Uh-huh,” his mother says, disbelief in her voice. “Why don’t we go for a walk then? You could use some fresh air,” she states, but Heiilios just sighs.

“I’m fine here,” he says, tiredly. The clock on the wall behind his mother reads barely past noon, and he’s already too tired to be having this conversation. “Where’s dad?” Heiilios tries, instead.

“Your father is outside, where you should be, too,” his mother continues. “This house is lovely, but you shouldn’t spend all your time in here,” she scolds lightly.

Heiilios wants to ask what his parents do when they’re not home. He wants to ask where they go since they’re always gone by the time Heiilios drags himself out of bed. He imagines that being the parent of a Victor is just as difficult and being a sibling, yet his parents never seem burdened by the attention.

He makes his way to where his mother sat down her bag of groceries, and silently starts putting the food away. Heiilios pretends he can’t feel his mother still watching him. “Heii?” she intones, voice amused. “I appreciate your newfound interest in helping me put away the groceries, but they can wait until we get back.”

“From where?” Heiilios asks, grip tightening on the carton of milk in his right hand.

“You know where,” she says, already toeing on her shoes. “Come on, I want to talk with you.” Heiilios just sighs. There’s no use arguing with his mom. She can be nearly as stubborn as Finnick when she wants something.

“Fine, alright. Give me a second, okay?” he says, moving for his shoes left unused by the front door. His mother smiles.

Moments later, and they’re walking down the main stretch of Victor’s Village. The street is eerily quiet despite being the middle of the day. Heiilios knows that there are other Victors and families living in the neighborhood, yet only realizes now how he has yet to even catch a glimpse of anyone. The quietness is almost unsettling. In their old house, there was always noise being made; kids playing in the street, dogs barking, neighbors yelling. Even at night, you could hear other people if you listened closely enough.

That’s why, he nearly startles when his mother suddenly cuts the silence like a well-placed knife. “What’s wrong, baby?” she asks, putting a hand on his bicep.

Heiilios blinks at the nickname. His mother only refers to him as “baby” in the rare moments when he’s sick. “Nothing,” Heiilios shrugs, weakly. “Just don’t feel like going out,” he admits. His mother frowns but doesn’t look dissuaded.

“This is really tough for you, isn’t it?” she sympathizes.

Heiilios glances down at her and can’t help but think how small his mother looks. “What is?” he asks, playing dumb. He wants sympathy- someone to agree that he’s allowed to be frustrated and upset too- but now that he’s here, now that someone is willing to listen, all he feels is embarrassment.

“Everything,” she says, gesturing around her. “The new house, this neighborhood and its people, your brother, having an actual TV,” his mother continues, counting off her fingers. She grins at him, and he smiles back. “You know, sometimes it feels like everything is moving so fast and I have no control over anything,” his mother admits. “A few weeks ago, I was still working at the factory, but now I’m here,” she says waving her hand. “It’s better this way, but a part of me can’t help but miss my old job.” She smiles. “Strange, isn’t it?” Heiilios stares at her, wide-eyed.

“I didn’t know that,” Heiilios whispers, feeling bad. He’d been so focused on his own suffering, he never even considered his parents might have their own worries and problems too. “Would you ever go back?” he asks, curiously.

His mother barks a laugh. “Hell, no! Don’t get me wrong, I _hated_ that place.”

“Oh,” Heiilios mutters.

His mother stops grinning at Heiilios’ forlorn expression. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life, but you, dear, are not one of them.” Her pale green eyes meet his. “I’ve hid my worries from you, which, lately I’ve realized might not be a good thing.” His mother frowns, breaking eye contact. “Your father and I, we’ve hidden a lot from you boys over the years to try and protect you, but now, I’m realizing how bad that might have been. I don’t think I’ve helped at all, really.” Heiilios feels his mother’s grip on his bicep tighten and looks down worriedly. His mother is shaking.

Heiilios stops walking and grabs hold of his mother’s hand. “Mom,” he says, weakly. “You did your best, you couldn’t have known…” he trails off. His mother’s lips turn slightly as she squeezes his hand.

“Look at you,” she croons, stroking his cheek. “All grown up now and trying to comfort your mother.” Heiilios notices the glassy look in her eyes.

“Mom,” he says, again, pulling her close. “Please, don’t cry, mom. Please, don’t,” Heiilios begs. Seeing his mother cry isn’t anything new for Heiilios. If he thinks Finnick wears his heart on his sleeve, then his mother practically oozes emotion from her very pores. Whether she’s sobbing every time a child is killed in the Hunger Games or tearing up because the neighborhood stray hasn’t been around in a while, Heiilios still hates watching his mother cry.

“Oh, my sweet boy,” his mother whispers. “You’re trying so hard to be a good brother. I can tell, but you have to take care of yourself, too.”

“I know, mom. I know,” Heiilios murmurs. His hand lingers over her back, as he debates whether or not he should hold her tighter.  

“Something’s bothering you,” she states, plainly, and Heiilios, unsure what move is the correct one to make, weakly nods his head.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “A couple something’s actually. I don’t know how to feel about anything, anymore.” Heiilios admits, never imagining he would have a heart-felt conversation with either of his parents. “I didn’t want to make it into a big deal- I mean, you and dad must be hurting more than me, so I feel like I should just suck it up, but— “ He feels his cheeks grow red, and wished he never opened his mouth in the first place. Why can't he just suck up his feelings and move on? He's never had a problem doing that before. But now- now everything's changed. He looks away feeling even more embarrassed.  

“Hey,” his mother interrupts, gently. “Hey, it’s okay. You can tell me what’s bothering you.” Heiilios looks at his mother for what feels like the first time in a while, and is surprised to see such care and concern displayed across her face. He’s never doubted his parents don’t love him, but sometimes the bridge between his him and his parents seems even more daunting than the one between him and his brother.

Heiilios shrugs, nervously. “Just, with Finnick, I feel so…so, confused. I mean, he’s my brother. I thought I knew him, but lately, I’m not so sure,” he admits. His mother nods her head knowingly, and Heiilios, as shitty as he is with admitting his feelings, likes having someone listen to him.

It’s like, I had trouble understanding him before the Games, but now,” he laughs bitterly. “I feel like I’m seeing a stranger. He just seems so different. Like, I can’t help but noticing all these little quirks that weren’t there before. I don’t know what to believe.”

His mother reaches up and runs her fingers through his hair like she used to do when he was younger. “Have you ever considered, that all these different “quirks”, are all genuine in their own way?”

“What?” Heiilios asks, confused.

“People are complex creatures, baby. They don’t fit into neat little stereotypes all the time. Maybe, your brother is just as frustrated and confused as you are,” she explains, but Heiilios shakes his head.

“But, just now, on TV, he didn’t even—” Heiilios continues, feeling the words getting stuck in his throat. “He acted so different. Like, he’d lived in the Capitol for his whole life, or something. I can’t believe that he’s one of them, now. I just can’t.” Heiilios stubbornly shakes his head.

His mother lets out a long breath. “He’s not, love. I doubt he could ever be. You don’t forget your roots that quickly.”

“But mom, you didn’t see him!” Heiilios exclaims. “If you did then—”

“Then I would still love him no matter what because he’s my son,” his mother interrupts. “Exactly like I will forever love you, too. That’s just how family works,” she says, matter-of-factly. “Family doesn’t mean liking someone all the time. Believe me, I can’t even count the number of times I’ve wanted to kill your father over something silly. Being family means you stick together, whether it’s enduring the Hunger Games, or whatever comes after.” Heiilios can feel his heart begin to race. “And, sometimes, the hardest part is what comes after.”

His mother wraps her thin arms around his torso, and squeezes gently. “I’m scared of him sometimes, you know?” Heiilios admits softly. “I mean, I know that’s all sorts of messed up. Like, how can you even be afraid of your own family? I know he’s only fourteen, mom, but the way he killed those older kids so effortlessly…” Heiilios trails off, shaking his head. “I don’t even know what I’m saying. It’s not like I’d prefer the alternative, and—” his breath hitches. “I’m glad he’s home. I’m really, really, glad. But, like, sometimes I feel like—” he chokes up. This is too much for him. The words are trapped in his throat. He doesn’t even know how to convey what he means. And, honestly, what does he mean? How is he accurately supposed to convey his irrational fear that ‘oh shit, he dropped a plate and now there’s a knife in his back’. That’s not fair to Finnick. Not when his brother hasn’t _done_ anything to warrant that level of paranoia.

His brother did what he had to do to survive. That’s all. _That’s all._ But how is he supposed to believe that when the TV hosts insinuate how _easy_ it was for his brother to kill, and then Finnick doesn’t disagree? Heiilios could understand his brother’s lackadaisical attitude prior to winning the Games, but now- now his brother owes the Capitol shit. Finnick _won_ , yet he still acts like a pet trying to please his owner.

There’s a moment of silence where Heiilios thinks his mother has finally realized just how shitty a person he really is. Surely, she resents him at least a little bit since he didn’t volunteer to take his brother’s place. How could she not?

His mother looks directly at him and says, “He admires you, you know?” Heiilios blinks, because what? Why would Finnick admire someone like him who between facing his problems and running from them, would choose to run every damn time? “You may not see it, but I do,” his mother continues.

“You don’t have to say that,” Heiilios mutters.

“I’m not saying it to be nice, Heiilios,” his mother chastises. “I’m serious. Your brother looks up to you. You should talk to him. Ask him about his time in the Capitol if you think it would help you understand him better. What he says may surprise you,” his mother replies, with a tinge of sadness in her voice.

“Mom?” he asks, seeing her shoulders sag.

“You’ll look out for him, won’t you?” She looks up to Heiilios, wide-eyed and smaller than he ever remembers her being. “We- your father and I- haven’t always been honest with him, but he trusts you. He trusts you more than anyone else.” The silent, _he doesn’t trust me,_ lingers between them.

“Mom,” Heiilios continues, voice hitching. If his mother didn’t look so close to crying, he would probably laugh at the request. Turns out that Finnick wasn’t crazy after all in assuming their parents would ask Heiilios to watch over him.

“Please, promise me this. You may not like your brother, you may not understand him, you may even be a bit afraid of him, but you’re still family.” His mother looks up at Heiilios and he can see that there are silent tears running down her cheeks. “You’re all he’s got.” Heiilios grabs his mother again in a hug.

“Promise me, baby? Promise me you’ll look out for him,” she cries fat, messy tears into his shoulder. Heiilios doesn’t think his mother understands how much she is asking from him. He’s useless at helping people. How does his mother not realize that? His mother clenches his shirt even tighter when he doesn’t reply.

“Okay,” he agrees finally, feeling years older than eighteen. “Okay, I’ll try”

 

* * *

Finnick strolls in the house more than a week after he said he would return, acting completely oblivious to the tension in the room.

“I’m home!” his brother announces in a sing-song voice. Finnick grins at their parents and gives Heiilios a small nod. There is a small bag slung over his brother’s shoulder that Finnick doesn’t bother setting down while he toes off his shoes at the front door.

From the kitchen table his parents look on, wide eyed and disbelieving. Then, after a beat, their mother drops the fork in her hand and lunges for Finnick. Heiilios watches as their mother squeezes his brother in a tight hug. His brother’s arms are pinned to his side and Finnick stumbles slightly, looking surprised by the action.

“Mom?” Finnick asks, hesitantly. “Everything okay?”

The food on the table is left forgotten as their father stands, simultaneously slapping his hands on the counter. “You,” his father bites out, voice shaking, “do not get to act like nothing is wrong.” Heiilios watches as their father balls his fist, somehow managing to look angry but sound scared at the same time. “Where in Panem have you been?” he shouts.

Finnick glances at him for help, but Heiilios only shakes his head. “Um, in the Capitol? I told you I would be gone for a while,” his brother replies, making the answer sound more like a question.

“You said a few days! It’s been weeks, Finnick” their father exclaims, voice rising. Their mother finally let’s go of Finnick and takes a few steps back. His brother stares open-mouthed at their parents. 

“Um, I’m sorry?” his brother tries. Heiilios doesn’t think his brother sounds rude so much as he sounds confused. “I didn’t realize I would be gone that long, either.” Finnick looks abashed as he runs a hand through his hair, but because Heiilios is watching closely, he can see his brother tighten his grip on the bag he’s holding. Heiilios knows how horrible his brother is with accepting the idea that other people care about him. He doesn’t care so much about his brother’s growing discomfort, but Heiilios knows that everyone has a breaking point. He’s not especially eager at finding out where Finnick’s point is.

Their father opens his mouth about to continue, but Heiilios cuts him off. “I’m sure it was a mistake, right Finn?” Heiilios says, raising his brows at his brother. “He didn’t know we wouldn’t have any way to contact him, otherwise he would have written.”

“Uh, yeah,” Finnick says blinking. “I didn’t mean to worry anybody. I’ll, uh, write next time, or something,” his brother continues, addressing their father. “I’m sorry,” his brother repeats for good measure.

Their father looks like he’s not about to let the issue drop, when their mother lies a careful hand on their father’s arm, chiming in with, “Why don’t we finish eating together? I’m sure Finnick has all sorts of stories for us.” Finnick’s grip on his bag eases, and Heiilios is pleased that his brother looks more like he’s going to stay for dinner, and less like he’s about to run out the door.

“Sounds great, mom!” Finnick exclaims, gleefully. Heiilios notices his father let out a defeated sigh, before regaining his seat at the table. His brother turns to address him. “Can you grab me a plate? I’m just going to set my bag in our room really quick.”

Heiilios rolls his eyes. “Anything for you,” he drawls, making sure to inject as much sarcasm into his words as he can.

“Great!” Finnick replies, with faux cheeriness before scampering off. Heiilios pulls himself up from his seat and makes his way over to the kitchen cupboards. Their parents share a look behind his back that Heiilios pretends he doesn’t notice. When Finnick returns, he’s grinning ear to ear. “I’m starving!” his brother exclaims, grabbing the plate from Heiilios’ hand. Heiilios rolls his eyes knowing that in the past two weeks Finnick likely ate better than Heiilios has in his entire life. Dinner proceeds much like usual, afterwards. Finnick talks about a lot of nothing, singlehandedly talking about everything without managing to say anything. Heiilios would probably be more impressed if he weren’t so exhausted.

“They invited me to this party and of course, I couldn’t say no. And, when I got there, there were elephants! Like, actual, living elephants. You know? Those big animals with the long noses from the stories Gram used to tell us,” Finnick rambles, gesticulating wildly. Heiilios pauses.

“Why couldn’t you say no?” Heiilios asks. There was nothing suggestive in his brother’s tone, but the phrasing struck him as odd.

“What?” Finnick asks, tilting his head in confusion.

You said that you couldn’t say no. Why not?” Heiilios continues. The question is innocent enough, but Heiilios catches the way his brother’s posture turns ridged.

“It’s a figure of speech! Jeez Heii, don’t be so literal. I could have said no, but I didn’t want to be rude.” Finnick says, shrugging.

“Oh, okay,” Heiilios says, letting the subject drop.

He never thinks anything of it.

 

* * *

Later that night, Heiilios enter their room to find his brother sitting on his bed looking at something in his lap. Finnick’s eyes immediately snap up, going from Heiilios’ face, to his hands, before finally settling back on whatever his brother was staring at before. Heiilios pretends for a moment that his brother is a little saner, before he continues, “what’s that?” gesturing to whatever’s in Finnick’s lap.

“Hmm?” Finnick hums, looking up with a bored expression. “This?” he asks, holding up the block in his hands. Heiilios rolls his eyes but makes sure to stay on his side of the room. “Yeah, that.”

“It’s a book. I got it from the Capitol.” Finnick answers, setting the book down beside him. “It’s kind of stupid though,” his brother airily replies, shrugging his shoulders.

“What’s it about?” Heiilios asks, curiosity piqued. Other than the ancient raggedy textbooks they passed around when Heiilios attended school, finding books in District Four was very rare. Most people had neither the luxury to buy, nor the time to read any books.

“It’s a story, I guess. But, like I said, it isn’t very good.” Finnick answers. “Here,” his brother says, tossing the book across the room where it lands on the edge of Heiilios’ bed. Heiilios carefully flips the book over to look at the cover. The book is smaller than he’s used to seeing; small and compact compared to the large, thick textbooks he’s used to. There’s nothing illustrative about the cover, not that Heiilios is expecting any pictures, but even the letters are in basic ink, displaying the title “The Complete History of Panem.” Heiilios can feel his eyebrows rise.

“Story?” Heiilios parrots. “Wha’d ya mean?” Heiilios thinks the title is more indicative of one of the boring history textbooks they studied when he was in school.

“Yeah,” Finnick says. “Like, the stories mom and dad used to tell us when we were kids- but written down.”

Heiilios cracks the book open, and flips through the pages. They look old and faded, like someone reread the book many times. “They tell the same stories in the Capitol?” Heiilios asks. He finds it hard to picture the idea of Capitol citizens, with their outrageous appearances, telling their children the same stories that Finnick and Heiilios listened to as kids.

Finnick snorts. “No, definitely not. It’s the Capitol, remember?” Their stories are all lame pieces of fiction.” Heiilios continues skimming through the pages before he lands on a dog-tagged page titled: “The Boy and the Sea.”

“Have you read this one?” Heiilios asks, holding up the page so Finnick could see clearly. Heiilios watches his brother glance up and smirk.

“Yeah,” Finnick grins. “They’re all stupid except that one. That one’s not so bad,” his brother continues, which in Finnick-speak, means that his brother likes the story but just doesn’t want to admit that he would like something from the Capitol.

“Hmm,” Heiilios hums, looking thoughtful. “I still don’t understand why the title sounds like a history book,” he mutters.

“Beats me,” Finnick shrugs, rolling over on his side. “It’s the Capitol, remember? Trust me, nothing makes sense there.”

“Yeah,” Heiilios agrees, thoughtlessly. “Can I borrow this?” he asks, looking up at his brother. There was something alluring about a book being written with the intention not to inform, but to entertain the reader.  

“Sure,” Finnick waves, carelessly. “Just give it back when you’re done. I still have a couple of pages to go.”

Heiilios nods, already flipping to the front. “Yeah, okay. Sure.” If his eyes weren’t already glued to the page, Heiilios would have seen the way his brother smirked at him.

“I guess I’ll leave you two alone, then,” Finnick grins, stretching his arms before standing up and heading toward the door.

Heiilios’ eyes flit up, landing on his brother’s retreating form. “Jeez, you don’t have to leave Finn. I was about to turn in for the night, anyways.”

“Yeah,” Finnick drawls. “Sure, looked that way to me,” his brother smirks knowingly, and Heiilios has to restrain himself from rolling his eyes again. “But, it’s fine. I was going to take a walk anyways.”

“Now?” Heiilios asks, unable to keep from sounding surprised. “But, it’s like midnight.”

“Eleven-thirty,” Finnick corrects, and this times Heiilios does roll his eyes. “And, I’ll only be gone for a bit. I was thinking about visiting Mags,” Finnick continues.

“Mags?” Heiilios intones. His minds races to recall anything he can remember about the older lady. “You, mean one of your mentors?” Heiilios can’t keep the disbelief from his voice.

“Uh-huh,” Finnick confirms. “I told her I would drop by when I got back from my tour.” Finnick wavers by the door, obviously anxious to leave, but not quite rude enough to walk out in the middle of a conversation. Heiilios isn’t sure why, but the idea of Finnick leaving now doesn’t sit well with him, and he intends to stall as long as he can.

“But, why now? Can’t you wait till the morning?” Heiilios asks. Except what Heiilios considers a normal question, Finnick must find searching, because his brother instantly shuts down.

“No,” Finnick snaps. “It can’t.” Heiilios considers raising his hands in mock surrender, to try and lighten the tension a bit, but reconsiders because his brother would doubtlessly misconstrue the gesture as something worse.

“Okay, okay,” Heiilios responds, voice light and airy. “Whatever, I was just wondering. Have fun, I guess,” he says, deliberately picking up the book to his side and pretending to read.

Finnick lingers, and Heiilios smiles to himself. There are certain cardinal rules he must follow whenever dealing with his brother. The first and foremost: never show concern. Heiilios thinks the rule is really shitty, but without fail, as soon as Heiilios sounds the least bit concerned, Finnick startles like a wild animal. His brother is especially versed in picking up on tone, so Heiilios has to be especially exaggerated when acting indifferent.

Out of the corner of his eye, Heiilios can see his brother look around while picking at the lint on his pants. “Um, thanks for earlier by the way. During dinner, I mean. You really saved me,” Finnick bushes his hair away from his face.

“What?” Heiilios asks, finally looking up from his book.

“Earlier, when you got mom and dad off my back,” his brother elaborates. “That was cool of you.” Finnick smiles at him, one of his small genuine smiles.

“No problem,” Heiilios waves off. “Just, don’t expect me to do it again,” he adds for good measure, and Finnick laughs.

 “Wouldn’t dream of it,” Finnick says. “But, uh, yeah. I’ll be going now,” his brother gives a slight wave, and just like that, Finnick is gone like a specter in the night. He doesn’t believe for a second that Finnick is going to visit an old lady at midnight, but he at least hopes that wherever his brother is actually going, he finds what he needs there. As it is, Heiilios turns back to the book in his lap and just sighs.

One step forward, two steps back, indeed.

 

* * *

“Why do you even watch that crap?” Finnick asks the next morning, rubbing sleep from his eyes. The morning is a lazy one; Heiilios sprawled out along the couch flicking through the channels, while their parents are talking about something or other in the kitchen. Heiilios catches the words “ _on the boat_ ” and “ _for dinner tonight_ ” and dismisses their conversation as unimportant.

Heiilios blinks. “There’s nothing better to do,” he says in response. Finnick stares at him for a moment, before shrugging and rifling through the fridge for something to eat. A minute later and he sags down on the opposite side of the couch with a colorful bowl of small circles floating in milk.

“What the hell are you eating and—” Heiilios peers closer. “—is that milk?” He must be unable to keep the distaste from his face because Finnick laughs.

“Cereal,” Finnick replies. “It’s pretty good, actually. You should try some,” his brother recommends, full well knowing Heiilios would never eat something that looks like Caesar Flickerman’s hair. Finnick holds out his spoon for Heiilios to take and laughs when his face scrunches up in disgust

“I’d rather not,” he says, turning away from his brother. “Did you bring that back with you from the Capitol?” Heiilios asks.

“No, actually. There was already some in the pantry. Behind all the other stuff mom bought since we’ve moved here, I guess,” Finnick shrugs.

Heiilios’ brows shoot up. “Finn, that’s been, like, two months! Are you sure those are even still good to eat?” Finnick just laughs.

“Yeah, these things never go bad.” Heiilios just frowns. As if the color wasn’t unappealing enough, no way was Heiilios ever eating something that could apparently be preserved for so long.

“Whatever,” he dismisses, turning his attention back to the screen before him. He keeps flicking mindlessly, everything looking either too ridiculous to take seriously, or mind-numbing levels of boring.

“Just choose something,” Finnick snaps, already halfway finished with his disgusting breakfast. Heiilios, ignoring his brother, keeps scrolling through the channels.

“Ugh, just pick something already!” Finnick cries, pointing his spoon at him. Heiilios grins at his brother’s obvious impatience.

“I’ll pick something when I’m ready,” Heiilios dismisses. Then, because he knows how impulsive his brother can be, switches the remote to his opposite hand just before Finnick tries to swipe it from his hand.

“Heii, come on,” Finnick whines, sounding more petulant with every second. “Just choose something, I don’t care what it is.”

“Fine,” he relents, clicking a random number on the remote. The program that appears seems to be something fashion related, with two hosts discussing the current trends. “Are you happy?” he turns toward Finnick. His brother’s face is scrunched up. Heiilios knows his brother is just as disappointed by the station, but because Finnick is also a stubborn brat, his brother nods his head and kicks up his feet so that one leg hangs loosely over the armrest while the other leg is tucked beneath him.

“Very,” Finnick says. “I happen to love this channel,” his brother continues, face perfectly serious for about two seconds before bursting out in laughter. The next twenty minutes are subsequently spent making fun of the models and the host’s absurd commentary.

Finnick sets down his bowl on the ground and turns to face Heiilios. His brother pulls his hair back with one hand and purses his lips, imitating the more ridiculous of the two hosts. “Why, I think that the skirt’s blood-orange, cross-stitching really brings out my pretentiousness, Flavio. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Heiilios snorts, squinting his eyes and putting his palm under his chin thoughtfully to imitate the other host, before replying, “Why I have to disagree, Gerard. Your obnoxious voice is way more pretentious and the perfect reminder as to why we never invite you to the Spring Equinox Gala.

Finnick draws in sharp intake of breath, putting his hand over his mouth. “Flavio!” Finnick exclaims dramatically. “But you know how much I love the Spring Equinox. It’s my 14th favorite made-up holiday!” His brother looks so scandalized, that Heiilios can’t help but break character and laugh.

“I didn’t know my feelings were a joke to you, Gerard.” Finnick exclaims, smile breaking through his scandalized expression. His brother slaps a hand over his mouth with one hand and uses the other to fan his eyes. “I’m hurt, Gerard. Really hurt. You can forget about brunch this weekend at Margaux’s”

“W-who’s Margaux?” Heiilios chokes out between laughs.

Finnick shrugs his shoulders, finally dropping the act. “No clue,” he says, laughing along with Heiilios. “But, she spells her name with an ‘x’ and seems pretentious enough that she would be friends with them.” Out of the corner of his eyes, Heiilios notices his parents watching the exchange fondly. “How do you even know what Gala’s are, anyways?” Finnick asks, curiously.

“Well, obviously because of my frequent attendance to them,” Heiilios replies, seemingly affronted. Finnick lets out another laugh.

“Right!” his brother says, smacking his fist into his palm. “I remember seeing you at the annual Panem Prosperity Gala, a few weeks ago. Or, maybe it was the Congratulatory Mixer,” Finnick pretends to be thoughtful.

 _Mixer?_   Heiilios mouths the words silently, but Finnick notices and laughs at him. “Definitely the mixer,” his brother concludes, eyes shining.

“Okay, okay,” Heiilios continues, shaking his head. “Now, I know you’re making up words just to screw with me,” he says.

“No!” Finnick says. “Mixers are real. It’s basically just a fancy name for a party where the people are expected to talk to one another.”

“Do people not normally talk?” Heiilios asks, incredulous expression on his face.

Finnick just shrugs. “It’s the Capitol,” his brother says in lieu of response, and Heiilios finds himself nodding along. “But seriously,” Finnick continues, “how do you know what Gala’s are?”

Heiilios gestures toward the TV. “I watch a lot of crap on this,” he says. “Never anything interesting, but I’ve learned how to talk like every other Capitol asshole. Watch this,” Heiilios takes a moment to dramatically clear his throat before continuing in a high-pitched voice, “Gala, brunch, cocktail hour, refined palate, antiquities, recital dinner, trust fu—” Heiilios stops when he hears his brother snort from laughing so hard. “I can go on,” he offers, eyebrows wagging, but Finnick doesn’t even look up.

“That’s so true!” his brother exclaims, clapping his hands together. “And-and, the best part,” Finnick snorts, looking up at him. “They don’t even realize how freaking stupid they sound.”

“Seriously?” Heiilios asks, smiling.

“Seriously,” his brother confirms.

There’s a lightness in Finnick that Heiilios hasn’t seen since they were kids. They had a whole bunch of stupid games they would play when they were younger, but imitating Capitol ass-hats was always one of their favorites. In a weird, unsettling way, doing so again with his brother makes Heiilios miss the days before everything changed. And yeah, it’s a weird thought, that Heiilios could somehow prefer working all day, every day just to make enough money for their family to keep food on the table, but strangely enough, he longs for those times again. He misses when things were easy (for him at least) and he only had to worry about the “what-if’s” instead of the “what now’s”.

Heiilios has had time to mull over his mother’s words- particularly what she meant when she said that people aren’t stereotypes. Maybe his brother is just as confused and frustrated as he is. He’s always known Finnick lived in that messy, grey area that Heiilios could never reach. But, lately Heiilios has begun to think that he has a chunk of grey in him too. How else does he feel, stupid, blind relief whenever Finnick acts familiar, yet overwhelming fear when he doesn’t? How can Heiilios miss his brother, but not want to see him at the same time?

Finnick continues to charm the world with plastic smiles and his crooked grin, but Heiilios knows, that all the camera producers who argue over Finnick’s “best side” have never seen his brother laugh until he’s red in the face and snorting like a pig.

Finnick can be serious, yet childish. Strong, but fragile. Charming, and shy. And, while he isn’t sure how that’s entirely possible, Heiilios tries to understand that the real Finnick- not the one that plays dress up for the Capitol- but the Finnick who mocks talk show hosts, can also be the same person who kills without remorse and has trouble sleeping alone.

Heiilios would prefer to believe that his brother is still pretending to be someone else; that he could just wake up in the morning and his awkward, over-emotional brother will be there instead. He wishes he could cast aside his doubt that his brother isn’t stringing him along with every laugh, or well-timed smile. But, Finnick can’t be someone he’s not, and really, it’s unfair of Heiilios to even wish his brother to be any different than he is.

The Games are over, and even though Finnick never has to worry about returning, there’s still a part of his brother that acts like he’s still stuck in the middle of an arena. And, Heiilios doesn’t mean that in the unsettled way his brother views both strangers and forks with equal trepidation, but rather the way his brother regards life in general as one big train wreck with only brief interludes of calm.

Finnick waves a hand in front of his face bringing him back to the present. “Heii?” his brother asks, tone light, “You there? You spaced for a second.”

“What? Yeah, I’m here,” he says, blinking.

“Okay, well, I asked if you wanted to go fishing, or something.” Finnick leans back, trying hard to look uninterested in his reply. Heiilios doesn’t buy his act for a second.

“Well, I was actually pretty busy today,” he says, trying not to smirk at the way Finnick’s lips twitch.

“Oh, okay. That’s fine. No problem,” his brother reassures. “I’ll just go with some friends, then.” Heiilios wants to roll his eyes at the blatant lie, because Finnick doesn’t _have_ friends, but instead he drawls, “I’m sure you can take it up with my secretary and she could schedule you in for later this week.”

Finnick blinks. “What?”

Heiilios barks a laugh. “Of course, I’m not busy, Finn. What would I even be doing? Watching more of this crap?” he waves at the TV.

“How was I supposed to know?” Finnick bites back, crossing his arms, clearly annoyed at being duped.

Heiilios smirks.

“So, are you coming or not?” his brother asks, letting out a sigh and sounding defeated. Heiilios smirks at his brother’s obvious defeat; truly a testament as to how much Finnick must want him to come along. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming,” Heiilios waves off his brother’s moodiness. Finnick gives one of his shy, hesitant smiles, making Heiilios look away. He agreed to go fishing with his brother, not sell his kidney for fucks sake. Finnick didn’t need to be getting all sappy on him.

“Pack something to eat,” Heiilios calls out, when Finnick wanders into the kitchen a moment later. “And, none of that cereal crap!” he adds as an afterthought, knowing how much of a brat his brother can be.

“You want cereal?” Finnick calls back, immediately.

Case and point.

 

* * *

Several weeks later, Heiilios wakes up to see his brother struggling to unbox a large package. “Need some help?” he offers, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“No!” Finnick says. “I’m fine- ah, shit.” Heiilios watches his brother quickly put his finger in his mouth. Leave it to Finnick to cut himself. 

“Are you _sure_ you don’t need some help?” Heiilios asks again, already rifling through the cupboard for some scissors to cut open the box. Once he finds a pair he walks over to Finnick and holds them out. “Seriously?” Heiilios says upon seeing the pocket knife his brother had been using. “You didn’t think scissors would work better than a knife?”

“Screw you,” Finnick says, grabbing the scissors from his brother’s outstretched hand. “I didn’t think this damn box would be such a bitch to open.” His brother takes his finger out of his mouth long enough to see the bleeding hasn’t stopped. “Shit,” Finnick curses. "You going to help me, or just stand there looking stupid?” 

“How about, thank you, my wonderful, amazing bother for everything you do for—”

“Ugh, I’ll do it myself,” Finnick says, one hand by his mouth while the other hand cuts through the layers of tape covering the box.

“What’d you think it is?” 

“Hell, if I know. There wasn’t even a return address.”

His brother runs the scissors along the length of the box, finally managing to pry the package open. As Finnick pries back the lid and shoves away the styrofoam, Heiilios spots something he never thought he'd see in person- his brother's trident. 

“What the fuck? Finn?” 

Carefully, Finnick picks up the small envelope placed gently above the trident. In perfectly written letters is Finnick’s name. Heiilios can see his brother’s hands shaking as he tries to pry open the envelope, getting bloody smears on the paper as he does. 

Something inside of Heiilios instinctually reaches to steady his brother's shaking hand. “What are you doing?” Finnick asks.  

“Trying to keep you from getting blood on the carpet. What the fuck do you think I’m trying to do?” 

“Heh, yeah. Right.” Finnick laughs, like what Heiilios said was a fucking joke. “Can you get me something to stop the bleeding?” 

“Yeah, yeah of course,” Heiilios agrees. He shuffles off to the bathroom to look for an old cloth to wrap around his brother’s finger before he realizes that this fancy house probably has medical supplies lying around somewhere. He searches the drawers before finding what looks like a giant bandage. The bandage itself is twice the size that it needs to be, but Heiilios grabs it anyways along with the cloth and brings the supplies back to his brother.

Except, when Heiilios returns, his brother has the letter open. 

And his breathing is heavy. 

“Finnick!”

His brother startles, automatically crushing the letter as he does. There are red droplets splattering all over the box that holds his brother’s trident, but Finnick doesn't seem to notice.

“Give me your hand,” Heiilios demands, swiping Finnick's hand and wrapping it in gauze. Surprisingly, Finnick doesn't protest the treatment and lets Heiilios help him. As he's tying the knot to secure the gauze, he asks, “what was that about?” 

“I’m _invited_ to visit the Capitol for my birthday in a few weeks.” 

Ignoring the way his brother practically spit on the word "invited", he continues: 

“Then, why the trident?” 

“A birthday gift."

Heiilios holds the oversized bandage up to his mouth and uses his teeth to rip the wrapping open.

“From who?"

“My old sponsors."

Heiilios blinks.

Do Victors have their battle weapons mailed to them? 

He doesn't know the post Hunger Games protocol, but something about Finnick's rigid posture makes him think that receiving unsolicited weapons is not the standard procedure. 

He finishes wrapping his brother’s finger, letting the appendage drop when he’s finished. Finnick remains silent, staring at the trident like he expects the weapon to move. “Look,” Heiilios points, “you got blood on it. Nice going.” He lightly jostles Finnick in the ribs.

“Not the first time,” his brother whispers.

Yeah, probably should have seen that one coming.

He’s such a screw-up. Why is he always the one stuck with comforting his emotionally-crippled younger brother? He obviously sucks at it.

“You going to keep it?” Heiilios tries again. In retrospect, he should have just stayed quiet, because as evidenced before, he only succeeds in making bad situations, worse.

“I have to."

“I mean, you don’t have to."

He goes to examine the trident for himself.

The weapon is stunning. Scrubbed clean and shining, the trident looks less like a weapon to kill people with, and more as if it belongs as a piece of artwork on display. Gorgeous and ruthless; truly a perfect fit for his brother. 

He runs his finger down the shaft and immediately pulls back. Finnick killed people- two people to be precise- with this weapon, and here he is _petting_ the trident like it's some damn house pet. 

It goes without saying that treating his brother's old murder weapon like some coveted possession is wrong, but the first time Heiilios saw the trident, ornate and _expensive_ , was a relief. From that moment forward, with only four Tributes left alive, and two of them Career's, Heiilios _knew_ Finnick would be the one coming home. 

After all, the Capitol loved his brother too much to let him die. 

But, before Heiilios has the chance to properly look at the weapon, Finnick whirls on him, hissing, “don’t fucking touch it,” before grabbing the trident from his hands. Finnick practically curls into the weapon, a sign of comfort even if it's subconscious, but does not treat the trident with the same delicacy as Heiilios had. Instead, Finnick's knuckles have gone white from how hard he's clutching the weapon.

His brother's hands still shake lightly, but the way Finnick glares at him, slightly unhinged and all but _mad_ , has Heiilios drawing a sharp breath. Finnick practically looks feral.

“Okay,” Heiilios says, slowly raising his hands as he does. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

He’s never seen this look on his brother before and has to wonder how often Finnick looked like this in the arena because the camera footage never once showed him looking out of his mind. His brother’s current look isn’t a good one, and Heiilios wouldn’t doubt that the Capitol edited any footage of his brother looking anything but his normal, charming self.  Several seconds pass, and Heiilios watches the crazed look on his brother’s face slowly melt to confusion, as he abruptly drops the trident back into the box.

“Shit,” his brother curses. “Shit. Fuck, I didn’t mean to freak out like that."

Heiilios, more than a little unnerved by his brother’s violent mood change, slowly lowers his hands.

"Just didn’t want you to get blood on your hands.”

Heiilios glances toward the trident still tucked protectively in his brother's arms. There’s red splattered all over the box, but somehow the blood from his brother’s hand only saturates the packaging material. Heiilios holds up his own hands, willing his brother to see.

“Look,” he says, softly. “Already got blood on them anyways.” Heiilios shows his brother the smeared red streaks adorning his palms.

“You're an idiot Heii, you know that? I mean that as nice as I can, but god, you're an idiot." Finnick runs a hand down his face and laughs hysterically 

And laughs.

And laughs.

And keeps laughing. The sound is sharp and deranged. Not the least bit happy sounding.

Heiilios, wide-eyed, and more than a little-unnerved watches as his brother unravels at the seams. 

Then, all out of breath, Finnick rolls on his back, flops his arms to his side, and in a flat, listless voice says, "Shit, I think I've gone crazy."

Finnick raises his bandaged hand into the air, and alternates between flexing and curling his fingers.

"I can't even walk into a room anymore without thinking someone's going to jump out and slit my neck." Finnick clenches his hand into a fist. "It's bullshit. I just want my life back, Heii."

Finnick rolls over onto his stomach and places his arms under his face. When he speaks again, his voice sounds muffled. 

"Mags said it'd get better. She fucking _said_ -" 

His brother's voice wobbles, uncertainly.

“Finn,” he says, softly, unsure how to approach the mess that is his brother. For the first time, Heillios notices the crumpled stationery lying beside his brother. He grabs the letter, but as soon as he goes to uncrumple the letter, Finnick sits up and swipes the stationary from him.

“You can’t read that!” 

“Wha- why not?”

Instead of answering, his brother jumps up and runs away. 

Which, what?

"Finn, wait!” Heiilios calls, standing up and chasing after his brother. He stumbles at first because his legs have gone numb from sitting too long, but he ignores the feeling and follows Finnick to the bathroom, where he finds his brother shoving the letter under the bathroom faucet. Heiilios hasn’t a clue about what’s happening anymore, but he guesses the answers he’s looking for are currently being drenched in water. He lunges for the sink, intending on stopping Finnick from destroying the only thing that could help Heiilios make sense of the situation, but his brother steps in his way, blocking him.

“Stop,” Heiilios shoves Finnick out of the way and making a grab for the parchment. In hindsight, manhandling a panicking, mentally unstable Victor is not the wisest decision. 

Without any concern for safety, Finnick tackles Heiilios. 

Together, they both fall to the floor where his head hits the tile, hard. Finnick, on top of Heiilios, sits up looking suddenly scared.

“Heii? Heii. Oh shit, please be okay."

Heiilios ignores his brother’s scrambled apologies and pushes Finnick off of him. His brother jumps up and holds out a hand for him to take. He ignores his brother’s outstretched hand and instead, very deliberately turns off the faucet.

“What the fuck is going on?”

His brother shakes his head. “I don’t know. I’m sorry, I don’t know.” Finnick looks up meeting Heiilios’ concerned expression and falters. “I-I panicked. I don’t know. Nothing makes sense anymore, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” To Heiilios' disbelieving expression he adds, "Really!" 

Lately, Heiilios feels like an interrogator more than a brother. “For what?”

“Huh?” 

“Why did you panic?”

“I don’t know. I just- I saw the trident, and then the letter, and now I have to go back to the Capitol—” 

“Wait, what?” Heiilios interrupts. “Say's who?" 

His brother looks away.

"Finnick?" 

His brother stares at his toes. 

"How's your head?" Finnick asks after a minute of Heiilios staring at him. Literally, a whole minute of nothing but running water, and Heiilios' pissed off glare. Without looking away, he reaches over and turns off the faucet. The parchment is too water-logged that he doesn't even try to read it anymore. 

 

“I’m not dangerous,” Finnick says after a beat.“I promise I’m not.” 

"Yeah." 

"I didn't mean to tackle you, Heii. It was an accident." 

"Yeah," Heiilios says. "I know." And, the truth is, he believes that Finnick didn't actually mean to hurt him, which just makes the assault all the worse. 

The part of him that has always suspected his brother as being dangerous, is screaming now. Screaming for him to get away. 

“Is there any way for me to help?” he asks instead. Finnick just shakes his head.

“No,” his brother says, expression disappointed but not surprised. “There never was.”

 

* * *

The Peacekeeper’s are still assholes who stop and search their father’s boat. But at least now, once they see Finnick is the one behind the helm, they're not harassed.

Even the stupid dogs of the Capitol know not to mess with the President's most darling Victor.

He and his brother have created somewhat of a routine together on their father's boat. They don’t do any real fishing, not like before when the options were either working or starving. But, Finnick will still cast his reel and hope for the best. Sometimes, Heiilios even tries for himself. 

Other than the occasional catch, they don't really _do_ much. Mostly, Finnick likes to drape his feet over the edge of the boat, and look at the water. Once in a while his brother will call him over if there is something interesting. Yesterday, they saw a pack of dolphins along the horizon.

Heiilios prefers to read. He’s almost halfway finished with his newest book, too. Occasionally, he has to ask his brother what a certain word means, but other than that, their days are mainly silent sans the lapping of the waves against the boat.

The only reason Heiilios tags along is that he has nothing better to do. He suspects his brother is secretly lonely. Why else would Finnick ask him to tag along every day? The thought isn't humorous, but Heiilios smirks anyways. His brother, who has the whole world at his beck and call, is lonely. 

Today though, today is different. It’s midday and after several hours of staring at the sea, Finnick is the one to break the silence. “I missed the sea most of all,” his brother says. “In the Capitol, and during the Games, I mean. There were pools and rivers, but it was different.”

“Our coast is the prettiest. Did you know?” Heiilios shakes his head.

“Well, of course not. That was a stupid question. But, I mean it. The coast in District Nine is grey looking, and in District Two, the waves are too big to even navigate. Our District has the best coastline for sure.” Finnick shrugs. “Guess that’s why we’re known as the fishing District.”

“I didn’t know that."

“Yeah. I always miss it here. A lot.”

Heiilios sets his book down beside him, careful to mark his page. There’s sweat beading on his forehead, and he uses the bottom of his shirt to wipe it away. “It always seems like you enjoy your time in the Capitol to me."

His brother pauses, seeming to consider his words. 

“No,” his brother shakes his head. “I don’t" Then, with a venom in his brother’s voice Heiilios has never heard, Finnick continues, “I hate every minute I’m forced to be there.”

Heiilios raises his eyebrows in surprise. He sits up from his slouched position on the deck and considers making his way over to his brother, but, before he can, Finnick jumps up shooting Heiilios one of his trademark plastic grins. “Let’s go swimming!” 

“We come out here every day but never go in the water," his brother says, stripping his shirt and tossing it aside. "I don't know about you, but I'm tired of just sitting here. Let's _do_ something."

Heiilios opens his mouth to point out everything wrong with what Finnick just said, but before he can, his brother dives into the ocean. 

“Come on,” his brother beckons after resurfacing for air. Heiilios grabs his book before it gets wet.

What the hell? How are you going to get back up? There’s a reason we don’t swim this far, remember?”

Finnick rolls his eyes. “Don’t be such a wet blanket, Heii.” His brother dives under the water and swims away without a second thought. 

“Finnick!" he calls. "Finni- shit." Cursing the entire time, he runs to the front of the boat and throws the anchor before his brother has a chance to get too far. Making quick work of tying the knot and pulling the rope several times to make sure it holds, Heiilios strips off his shirt and dives into the water.

 _Fucking brat_ , he thinks caustically. If Finnick doesn’t know how to get back up, then they’re screwed. He swims over to where Finnick is treading water 20 meters away.

“What the fuck?” Heiilios yells.

“Nice to see you came. Didn’t think you would,” Finnick cheekily grins, and Heiilios wants to strangle him.

“Yeah, now how are we supposed to get back up, dumbass?” 

“Not sure, but I’m sure we’ll figure it out.”

Heiilios runs his hand down his face. “How the fuck did you win your Games?” Heiilios knows his younger brother isn’t as stupid as he lets on to be, even if Finnick occasionally acts impulsively and without an ounce of common sense.

“Dumb luck and a pretty face, I guess."

“You say things purposefully because you know they’ll piss me off, don’t you?” 

“I can’t help you take everything I say so seriously,” Finnick says. “Besides, I wasn’t joking.” 

“Right, so you want me to believe that the only reason you were able to kill _three_  Career tributes was that of dumb luck?” Heiilios clarifies.

“And, a pretty face! Don’t forget that part.”

Finnick is grinning again, which has Heiilios wanting to groan loudly in frustration. Actually, he does.

“You are impossible!” he cries, not to Finnick, but toward the sky. When he turns toward his brother, Finnick is waiting expectantly, one eyebrow raised in anticipation. “I hope you know that."

“It’s part of my charm. But, hey, forget about that for now. You remember that time when we were kids and we went fishing and you teased me about being eaten by the sharks?” 

“What? No. When was this?"

“I was seven, I think, so that means you were probably eleven or twelve at the time. It was just us and dad.”

Heiilios thinks about the time Finnick is describing and is left with hazy memories at best. “Uh, kind of, I think?” 

“Well, you did. You told me that if I fell in, the sharks would eat me and nobody would care.”

“I said that?” 

“Yeah. I didn’t believe you, really. But, I was kind of afraid of the water for a bit after that.” 

“Oh,” he says. “Do you want an apology or something?” 

“I was just wondering if you remembered, that’s all.” Heiilios watches his brother smile to himself. “That was a good day. I wish I could go back. Life was easy back then.” Finnick speaks with such ease as if he's had this thought many times before. For the first time, Heiilios is on the same wavelength as his brother because he _understands_ his brother’s desire for times to be simpler more than anything else.

“Yeah,” Heiilios agrees, words heavy and wanting. “Me too.”

Heiilios glances out of the corner of his eye to see Finnick deep in thought. There's a faraway look in his eye's that make him wonders what his brother thinks about when he looks out at the water. 

“Finn,” Heiilios starts. “I’m really glad you weren’t eaten by sharks as a kid.” The words rush from his mouth, and Heiilios feels embarrassed as soon as he says them. Why the hell did he say something so sappy? He’s not a girl for fucks sake. His face grows warm, and he considers swimming back toward the boat just so he doesn’t have to listen to his brother’s inevitable laughter.

But, instead of laughing Finnick stares at him, eyebrows pinched together in thought. “Uh, yeah, me too, I guess. Although, that certainly would have made things easier now.” Finnick laughs lightly, expecting Heiilios to join in. Heiilios wants to laugh along with his brother, pretend he didn’t just sound like an idiot, except there’s a self-depreciating lilt in his brother’s tone that makes Heiilios believe the joke isn’t really a joke at all.

Heiilios can understand wanting to go back to easier days. Days before either of them had to even worry about the Games, much less the fallout that comes afterwards; but, once again, their wavelengths have separated and Finnick has entered the grey area, because Heiilios cannot understand the idea of wanting to die.

Heiilios suddenly remembers Finnick admitting several years ago that he didn’t like himself, and distantly wonders if that’s still true, even now.

Finnick stops laughing when he notices Heiilios never joins in. “You okay, Heii?”

Heiilios isn’t sure how to reply, and before he can figure out the right words, his brother frowns and continues. “Jeez, it was just a joke. This is what I meant earlier- you take shit way too seriously.”

Heiilios remembers dismissing his brother years ago when Finnick admitted to hating himself. He summed it up as normal teenage angst. But now- now Heiilios doesn’t want to dismiss the things he doesn’t understand. He doesn’t understand Finnick- never has, but Heiilios wants to at least try.

“Do you like yourself, Finnick?”

 

There's a beat of silence, and Finnick, now older, looks away from Heiilios the exact same way he did years ago.

“It's a _fucking_ joke," his brother snaps, eyes fierce and teeth bared. Heiilios feels his heart quicken in response. Finnick looks livid. Angrier than he probably should be from a simple question, which makes Heiilios suspect his brother is lashing out in fear more than he’s genuinely upset.

But still.

Finnick has killed people. Strong, brutal, people. And, no matter how hard Heiilios tries to forget, he can’t. He casually tries to put distance between them in the water.

Finnick notices and deflates immediately. “Shit, sorry.”

His brother looks away; the same way he would when he was younger and wanted to avoid an uncomfortable topic. The same way he's doing now.

“I just don’t…” 

“Like yourself?”

“Listen, I’m sorry I freaked, but can we not do this now?”

“Then when?” Heiilios asks.

“Huh?”

“When will we do this?” Heiilios continues. “Because, it’s been years, Finnick.” 

“Yeah? Well, you didn’t seem to care years ago, so why should I believe you’ll care now?” Finnick spits the words like acid, his intention to hurt. Heiilios takes a breath to try and ignore them, but shit, his brother is right, isn’t he?

“I didn’t know how to show I cared back then,” he starts.

“And, you're so much better now?” 

“Well, I'm fucking trying, alright?" Heiilios yells. “I’m listening, now. I don’t know if I’ll understand everything,” and here he waves his hand, “but I’ll fucking try, okay?”

He’s not sure what type of reaction he expects from his brother, but certainly not the put-out sigh that seemingly ripples through Finnick’s whole body.

“I know,” his brother admits. “Which is why I can’t tell you.” Finnick takes a breath. “Listen,” he starts. “I know you think I’m crazy, or some shit, and I bet you’re probably a bit afraid of me too—”

"Finn."

“Shut up, and listen to me, dammit! I _know_ , and I’m not upset or anything so don’t look at me like that. Hell, sometimes, I scare myself. I don’t mean to just snap, but-but, that doesn’t mean I’m going to off myself in the bathroom when things get rough, either. Okay? I just- it’s a lot some days."

His brother sighs, sounding years older than the fifteen years he is. "I’m trying. I really am, but there’s somethings I can’t tell you, and you’ll just have to trust me on that. You’re a good person, Heii, and I don’t want to be the one to ruin you.”

“Ruin me? Finn, what are you even—”

“Heii. Would you just listen? For fucks sake. You shouldn’t ask questions you don’t want to know the answers to. I know you’re trying hard, but you need to stop.”

“How can you even ask me to do that? You’re my fucking brother. I can’t stand you some days, but that doesn’t mean I’d just tell you to piss-off.”

Finnick raises a brow.

“Okay, I might. But, I’d say it endearingly.”

“I’ve ruined your life, Heii. You have every reason to hate me. Hell, I hate me, so you definitely should hate me. I’m all sorts of fucked-up and I ruined your life, and those are just facts I have to live with. But, just because I have to live knowing what I did- what happened- doesn’t mean you have to.”

For a moment, Heiilios doesn’t say anything. He reruns the words over again in his head trying to make sense of them. “I don’t understand what you’re saying,” Heiilios whispers. “But, the Games are over now, you can move on. I mean, you’re only fifteen, after all."

Finnick laughs; a bitter, miserable sound.

“Yeah, well, that doesn’t seem to matter much in the Capitol.” 

“What?”

His brother’s words linger in his head.   _You shouldn’t ask questions you don’t want to know the answers to._

“The Hunger Games aren’t the worst thing to happen to a person, Heii. It’s what comes after that’s the real bitch.”

“After?” Heiilios asks, voice low.

Finnick closes his eyes for a moment and when he opens them, the sea is grey and his brother looks a hundred years old.

             


End file.
